Worlds Apart
by Lucretia Skelington
Summary: This is the last chapter of Worlds Apart and Clarisse has a decision to make. Complete. A sequel to Different Worlds. CLARISSE and JOSEPH...who else? Rated Teen to be safe.
1. Default Chapter

_Meg Cabot wrote Princess Diaries and Disney did the movie. This is solely for the enjoyment of fans. _

_If you have not read Different Worlds, I suggest you do so before reading this. It will refer to many characters in Different Worlds and Worlds Apart follows immediately after as this is the sequel. Please be a dear and leave me a review. Constructive comments are most welcome._

_Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

Worlds Apart 

Chapter 1

From the terrace café, Joseph sat, lost in thought, watching as the moon slowly climbed above the distant, high mountain peaks that were even now, in late summer, crowned with snow. It hung in the heavens, a shining ball of white-silver, illuminating the night sky of his new home.

How, he wondered,did the queen's garden appear, when lit by moonlight?

In a short time, he would find out.

After Queen Clarisse left the room earlier that afternoon, he announced he would take the job. Johansson, the retiring Head of Security was speechless. Regaining his tongue a minute later, his friend could only manage one word- '_why?'_

Why, indeed. Joseph shook his head then sipped his coffee, thinking of his decision.

The pay was far less than any other offers that had poured in after word of his retirement from the British Army got around. Despite the fact that the job entailed working for royalty, it was not as prestigious as some opportunities he'd considered. Interpol had offered him a lucrative position overseeing a large portion of Europe; several private security firms had offered his choice of positions around the world.

While his influence could have reached far and near, a small European country whose fame rested upon pears and lace was now his sole area of responsibility.

On top of it all, Victor told the truth about the security department's shortcomings. He would begin under-staffed and under-funded. Moreover, Joseph had the distinct impression that the department's reputation was just slightly above that of airport security. From what he saw upon arrival, he was inclined to agree.

He tossed a few bills on the table then stood, stretching his back after sitting for so long in thought. The hotel Johansson booked for him was nearby, a short half mile walk along the river. Tomorrow, he would search for an apartment and make the needed arrangements before flying back to London the following day to send his belongings and retrieve his car. Victor would not be retiring for almost two months yet, so Joseph would have time to familiarize himself with the particulars of the job.

In dealing with royals, dignitaries, and the titled upper crust of Europe, he expected many particulars. Handling difficult people in tense situations was one of his strong points; handling people who were just plain difficult was another matter entirely. At least the king and queen seemed to be of even temperament.

His footsteps slowed on the worn cobblestones as the woman's face came to him. He stopped, staring into the rushing water, black and silver in moonlight.

There was only one reason why he was staying.

_"One day you will meet her and you'll know…you'll know without a doubt,"_ Micha had told him.

Joseph closed his eyes. Micha was right.

He'd met the one woman he thought he would never find…and she was the wife of his sovereign, she was his queen.

A laugh started in his chest at the irony of it all, but quickly died.

He could never hope to have her. Even were she not married, he was a commoner and did not move in the same circles as Clarisse Renaldi, Queen of Genovia.

They were worlds apart, yet he could not bear to be apart from her world.

Slowly, Joseph walked on.

Nothing had changed, for he would still be alone.

* * *

Within a week of being on the job, Joseph knew the problems he faced extended beyond just that of the Royal Security Force. Within two weeks, he knew he was in trouble. He was going to have to overhaul the whole Genovian system. Now, after working at it eighteen hours a day for nearly four months, things were finally looking up, a little. 

As Head of Royal Security, he was responsible for all aspects of the royal family's safety and well-being. In this pursuit, he could issue any order he deemed necessary to the Genovian National Police Force, the Border Guard, and the Militia. In view of the fact that they were technically under his control when called upon, no one could countermand his orders and he answered only to King Rupert and Queen Clarisse. While the Genovian Prime Minister had the privilege of requesting information or an explanation of his actions, he had the authority to refuse to answer.

At his post, he was literally above the law.

In studying the country's civil defenses, he found the problem was determining just who did what. Too many edges were blurred; too many responsibilities were unclear. It had been decades, in the militia's case perhaps a century, since objectives and guidelines were updated. Contingency plans were unheard of and no one held reviews of internal procedures. It was, to put it bluntly, a mess.

No serious problems erupted from this negligence only because Genovia was a sleepy, quiet country. But it was, he knew, only a matter of time.

The Border Guard dealt with everything from inspecting agricultural products to impounding improperly registered pets. Passports were rarely processed and there was no way to check incoming airline manifests against Interpol advisories or even the Genovian Police list of undesirables, should the police manage to produce one. The country was basically wide open to anyone who cared to cross its borders for whatever reason, good or bad.

He found the Genovian National Police stretched too thin in some areas, duplicating effort in others. While crime was low throughout the country, as compared to that of its neighbors, statistics showed a slow, but steady increase in property theft. Renewed efforts to contend with it was called for before it got out of hand. While adequately equipped with the very basics, all aspects of the force were in dire need of training to meet modern standards.

The Genovian Militia was the most frustrating of all. Its primary reason for being appeared to be marching in the National Day Parade and holding ceremonial activities where the members dressed in flamboyant costumes. They didn't even have a fatigue uniform, training schedule, or a set of clearly defined responsibilities. As a professional soldier, Joseph found that hard to stomach.

In the early weeks of his tenure, he spoke with each organization's chief officers, carefully gauging how they felt about the situation. Two supported his view on restructuring, but one did not.

The General of the Militia, Rodolfo Bonetti, not surprisingly, preferred the status quo. His was the flashiest uniform of all, being a garish thing with pounds of gold roping and gaudy medals, all set off by epaulettes big enough to serve lunch on. An enormous, matching hat topped the dreadful outfit and the general wore his uniform on every possible occasion. To everyone who would listen, he vowed to fight any changes that Joseph tried to create, and General Bonetti was a man true to his word. So far, the general was winning the war.

Bringing about reorganization meant first convincing King Rupert and Parliament of the need for change. The battle still raged. They accepted his suggestions for the National Police and Border Guard; but the Genovian Militia was one of those units steeped in tradition, as Victor had put it. There was great opposition to making the tiny militia part of a new Department of Civil Defense that he proposed. Many in Parliament were honorary members of the militia and did not want to give up their sash and medals.

Joseph, on the other hand, wasn't about to back down.

A Department of Civil Defense could provide help in times of national disasters or crises more efficiently than the police. It would contain the fire, emergency medical services, and rescue divisions. These three units formerly operated independently and often found themselves performing the same functions. Under his plan, help would be available anywhere in Genovia within minutes. The militia would serve the useful function of augmenting services in times of crises, yet still have the opportunity to parade around on horses and strut about at balls as tradition demanded.

At the same time he was dealing withother departments'concerns, Joseph still had the Royal Security Force to manage. The number of agents in his command desperately needed reinforcing, but there was no money to do so. How was he going to manage it?

A few weeks later, the answer to his manning shortage, at least temporarily, came in the form of a challenge.

It was inevitable that the other law enforcement agencies would invite him to the gym for a few rounds in the boxing ring- everyone wanted a piece of the new guy and his situation was no exception. He was an outsider taking over a prime position near the king…they would want his blood.

He accepted, gladly.

"Are you going to fight with the guys at the police gym?" Shades asked, watching Joseph check his gear bag. His shift was over and he had been chatting with Bates, another agent, to kill time before dinner.

Joseph nodded, tossing a small towel in the bag. "Taking all comers."

Shades sucked in his breath. "You think that's wise, sir?"

"You think it's not?" He looked up and saw the answer in the agent's expression. Shades thought he was crazy. Bates was shaking his head.

"Mind if I come with you, Mr. Coraza?"

"No, not at all." His men would want to know what their boss could do. Victor was retired only two months and he knew judgment was still out on whether they would accept him or not. He was an untried and unknown quantity in their eyes.

Shades went to the locker and yanked twice to get the bent metal door open. He pulled out the small first aid kit then stopped, frowning. He put it back and instead took out the larger one and shoved it in his backpack and zipped it, then turned to Joseph. "Just in case."

It was not, Joseph thought, a vote of confidence.

"For me or for them?" he joked. The young man stared at him blankly. Apparently, subtlety did not work with Shades. "You think I'll get hurt?"

Shades unzipped the backpack. "Right. I'll get a couple cold packs, too. Those guys hit hard."

Joseph sighed and flung his bag over his shoulder. "Let's go."

The first aid kit had come in handy, in fact …for the other guys, mostly. Joseph was gratified to see a flicker of respect in Shades' eyes when he'd climbed out of the ring, weary to the bone, after a nearly two hour workout. In the beginning, men climbed in as fast as one would crawl out. Toward the end, they were less eager to go up against him. When two minutes went by without a challenger, he'd quickly called time, glad for it to end. He might be able to hold his own, but he was not as young as he used to be. He was sore for a week.

However, he did accomplish his goal. Sparring in quick, one and a half minute rounds, he'd carefully noted which men were out to score a point on him and which were more interested in testing themselves against an unknown. There were five of the latter and before he left the gym, he laid claim to all of them to augment his staffing.

They were charged with manning the palace entrances and checkpoints or seeing to other matters such as arrangements with the airport or hotels, which in turn left his agents to accompany the king and queen when out. Once he had a chance to observe them at work and assess their skills, he looked for characteristics he wanted in his own security force. He did this by turning up the heat.

Of the five, four accepted his offer three weeks later to meet again at the police gym for a hand-to-hand workout. Of the four, only two kept their temper when he repeatedly threw them to the mat. He did not want agents who could not maintain control over themselves. Hans and Anton, the two who held their anger and frustration in check, would be assets he was certain, and he intended to transfer the two men to his staff when his budget allowed. The fact that they were over six feet tall and of bodybuilder physique was an added bonus; there were occasions when imposing stature was useful.

In truth, he would rather have a new group of agents he could train to his liking, so was not worried about the impending retirement of several of his agents. With his contacts across Europe, Joseph knew he could fill any number of positions easily. The trouble was in getting the positions.

That reason was precisely why he was now waiting to see His Majesty.

* * *

"Sir, Mr. Coraza is here for his appointment." 

"Oh, yes. Send him in, please," King Rupert said, rising from behind his desk. He turned to his wife. "My dear, would you care for a cup of tea or a walk? You don't have to stay for this- it only concerns increasing the security force and won't take but a moment. I've made my position known already, but Mr. Coraza is rather _insistent_ about the matter."

Clarisse put away the folder she'd been referring to while she and Rupert were discussing the upcoming session of Parliament. Their new Head of Security had without doubt shaken things up within and without the palace. "I'd like to stay, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Rupert replied, as his aide opened the door.

As before, Clarisse noticed his eyes first. They were light and blue in color and when he looked at her it was as if he were staring straight into her soul.

Fortunately, she rarely had reason to meet him.

She saw him occasionally about the palace, but not frequently during the typical day of office work. If there was a function, he was present, unobtrusively standing several feet away. He accompanied them on trips within Genovia and was at their side when out of the country. In the past months, she'd spoken to him only a few times. Unlike his predecessors, Coraza was very busy.

Ever since that day in the morning room when they'd first met, Clarisse found herself wondering about Joseph Coraza. He seemed, as Victor Johansson said, extremely qualified for the position. As for his personal life, she knew little except that he was retired military who had traveled much and was unmarried. She found that last bit of information unusual; Coraza was a handsome man.

Having returned Rupert's greeting, Joseph turned to her. She fidgeted with her pen nervously then laid it down, suddenly self-conscious.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," he said, giving her a slight bow.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Coraza," she replied. He turned back to Rupert and waited and Clarisse let her mind and gaze wander.

Waiting, he stood straight, hands behind his back and she could not fail to discern that their Head of Security was in _very_ good shape. It was his military training, she supposed. He did not shift his weight from foot to foot nervously as some did in their presence. In the few months he'd been in the employ of the palace, she never saw him appear uncomfortable in any situation and he carried himself with a great deal of confidence.

Did women find him pleasant company? Would he meet and marry someone in Genovia, now that he was settling down? Why hadn't he married before? Was there a tragic tale in his past, a lost love, perhaps?

_Really, Clarisse! One does not gossip or wonder about an employee!_

Quickly, she looked away as her face warmed, feigning interest in a paper in front of her on Rupert's desk.She had her own office, but they were frequently in each other's discussing concerns.

"Coraza, I understand you wish to talk about changes in palace security," Rupert said, settling into his large chair.

She knew Rupert would listen to Coraza, but he'd already made his decision.

"Yes, sir. You have a copy of my proposals, I believe. Do you require I go over any parts of them?"

"No, I've looked them over."

"Do you have any questions, Your Majesty?" He directed the question to Rupert, but Coraza looked her way, including her in the conversation without affronting the king. Unsure of the dynamics at work, he was still feeling his way around the palace, she realized. He would have made a good diplomat.

"You're doing a fine job reorganizing our public services, nevertheless…" Rupert made a face of intense concentration. "In all honesty, I do not understand why you feel security at the palace needs changing. Is it not currently providing adequate protection for my wife and me?" he asked, gesturing to the papers before him. Rupert sat back in his chair and waited.

Coraza hesitated for a moment. Clarisse knew he was choosing his words carefully; her husband had given him an impossible question to answer.

If he answered in the negative, it would be admitting he was not doing his job. If he answered in the positive, it would be admitting there was no need to make the changes. It was rather ill of Rupert to test their Head of Security in such a way.

"Sir, while the current level of protection may have been sufficient in the past, I have reservations about how well suited it is for today's world," he answered slowly. "The old way is no longer adequate. The risk will only increase with delay."

"I see no reason to change," Rupert said, gesturing with his hands.

"Your Majesty, from my experience, I am very aware of the rise in terrorist and subversive activity by dissidents in Europe. There is discontent spreading across the continent and Genovia is not immune, sir. It is my job to safeguard you and the queen from harm or even the _possibility_ of danger. I need more men and equipment to do this properly."

Although he hid it well, she could hear the frustration in Coraza's words.

"Danger? What danger?" Rupert laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "But for the odd nonconformist, we have no problems with anyone attempting to harm us! Come now, sir, aren't you being overly cautious?"

"No, sir. I am not," Coraza replied firmly.

Without speaking, Rupert rose then walked to the window, hands in his pockets. After a moment, he turned, his expression determined. "Sir, your diligence to duty does you credit, however I think the security we have is sufficient. Beef up the guard, post a patrol, if you like, but I do _not_ see need to expand the department."

Clarisse thought it was through sheer willpower alone that Coraza did not dispute Rupert's words.

"As you wish, Your Majesty. Thank you for your time. If you will excuse me," he said evenly. He gave them both a small bow then walked to the door.

Why was Rupert being so unbending about this? Coraza was much more knowledgeable in these matters. Clarisse stood, thoughtfully considering what she'd heard and then spoke, using Coraza's title to jog Rupert's memory, in case he'd forgotten.

"_Colonel_ Coraza, a moment, please."

She went to stand at the side of the desk, hands clasped in front of her at waist level. "Do you feel we are in danger?"

"No, I do not, Your Majesty," he answered reassuringly. "However, it is wise to be prepared so that when a problem occurs, we will be ready…and not wish we had been." His blue eyes held her gaze. Uncomfortable, she looked away to Rupert.

"I don't see how allowing Mr. Coraza to take some precautions could hurt."

Her husband came to stand beside her with a tolerant expression on his face. She found it extremely irritating at that moment.

"Of course, my dear. As I said, the colonel has my full support in restructuring the _existing_ unit as he sees fit." Rupert gave her a patient smile as he crossed the room then opened the door to leave. "Now, I have another meeting to attend. I will see you at dinner, my dear."

He walked out but the aide remained, waiting for Coraza to follow.

"I would like a word with Mr. Coraza," she said, and waited until the aide closed the door, leaving them alone.

Clarisse found Coraza watching her. "Colonel…"

"_Joseph_, Your Majesty."

"Ah, yes... _Joseph. _You found Genovia's public safety divisions to be in…disorder, did you not?"

When he did not answer immediately, she added, "Do not fear offending me. I know there are still areas in which we need to make changes."

He moved closer to her, stopping several feet away and rested his hand on the back of one of the Queen Anne chairs opposite the desk.

"When a country develops quickly, as Genovia has, it is understandable that the public services need periodic adjustments to maintain efficiency. I am impressed with the country's growth in technology and I understand it is because of your initiatives."

Clarisse blushed at his words. _You are acting like a schoolgirl getting her first compliment from a boy!_

"Thank you" she replied calmly. "Bringing about change to our country has not always been easy."

For the first time, she saw him smile. He was a _very_ handsome man.

"Yes, so I've noticed," he replied dryly.

"So you have," she answered, smiling in return. "I'm afraid you will find that to a man, the Genovian leadership embraces change slowly."

"To a _man?_" His words carried his amusement. "What about you, Ma'am? Do you embrace change slowly?"

She lifted her chin. "No. I believe change and progress does not have to be at the expense of traditions or a people's way of life."

He looked at her, half smiling, before inclining his head a fraction. "I count myself fortunate to have Your Majesty as an ally."

Clarisse had no answer, but felt her face warm yet again. Joseph dropped his hand to his side. "If there is nothing else…"

Clarisse shook her head. "No, not at present, Joseph. Thank you for your candor."

"You are most welcome. Good day, Ma'am."

The door closed behind him and Clarisse blinked. She needed a walk in the garden to clear her thoughts.

* * *

The security forces' headquarters in the palace was a storage room that was partially cleared to make room for their desk , three chairs, and two lockers. In the early weeks, he'd managed to get all three phone lines working and the computer upgraded. The surveillance cameras required extensive rewiring, but two now functioned properly and the other two would be working soon. 

The room opened to a hallway than ran the length of the east wing, and one day he hoped to have several of the rooms off the hallway turned into an office for him, storerooms for equipment, two sleeping quarters, a meeting room, and other essential spaces. At the present, there was just the one room…or, rather part of a room.

Joseph stared at the bales of toilet paper and boxes of toilet cleaner that still graced his command center. He and the Head of Housekeeping, Miss Parker, a dragon of a lady who did not top five feet in height but came close to it in width, had clashed over the matter when he'd come upon her in the palace foyer one day and asked about moving them.

"Upon me _grave_, there's not another place better suited to store them supplies and it's the _truth_ that they've been stored in that very spot since the _loos_ were installed and they'll be there until the day I draws me last breath! You understand that I'm _not_ about to be stacking them here and there, scattered about the queen's own palace where _everyone_ might see them," she'd added superiorly, as if he'd asked her to pile them by the front door. She stuck her hands on her hips and waited as the listening crowd grew.

"Miss Parker, I-"

Taking a deep breath, she launched her second, scathing attack. "This palace has been running just _fine_ for nigh on several centuries now and it's just like a _know-it-all outsider_ to come _waltzing_ in here with his high and mighty ideas-"

"Ma'am, it's just toilet pa-"

"-him trying to _change_ things without any _respect_ for people's _traditions_, which shows you just what the _world_ is coming to and it's nothing less than a _crying shame_ and a _downright pity, that's what it is!"_

Given in front of his entire staff and a goodly portion of her own, her harangue went on for another full three minutes and so impressed him that he'd listened in awed and amused admiration, then with as much dignity as possible, he acquiesced- the toilet paper stayed.

With his focus on reorganizing the civil departments and maintaining security for the royals, he had spent little time with the heads of each department. Creating an uproar and division among personell would be counter-productive. Besides, Miss Parker was not someone he wished to take on…not yet. He would work at getting in her good graces, instead.

* * *

Determined to make efficient use of whatever resources were available, Joseph turned to the palace staff. If trained properly, they could be a valuable asset to his work by simply keeping a sharp out eye for anything out of the ordinary. He could include self-defense training for the women, if they wished. Surely, Miss Parker could not object to that, he reasoned. Having the staff assist would help him greatly. 

To that end, two weeks later, he requested a meeting of the supervisors of the major departments.

"I don't know," Victor Johansson said,as they walked down the steps to the employee parking lot. He had stopped by to see how Joseph was getting along before leaving on a month-long trip to visit relatives in Germany. "You don't want to get Miss Parker riled."

"I think I can handle her."

"So I heard!" Victor replied with a laugh.

Joseph waved his hand dismissively. "I didn't want to create ill feelings, is all."

"Smart move, very wise," Victor said, trying to keep a straight face. "Did I tell you what happened my first week here, after I insisted her priceless toilet paper be moved?"

"No, but what could happen? Her department is simply sweeping, dusting...making beds."

Johansson stopped dead in his tracks, a stern expression on his face. "Not _just_ anything, Joseph. You ever noticed how brown and uneven the floor is in there?"

"I assumed it was because we are on the lower level and-"

"No. Those tiles are supposed to be white. For the next two weeks after my unfortunate run in with Miss Parker, her underlings applied gallons of floor wax here and there around the room, hallway, and steps, all unmarked and unannounced. It was like maneuvering through a minefield! Everyday we never knew when we were going to step on a sticky spot. Once on our shoes, it spread and we stuck with every step. Couldn't walk through the palace like that, had to clean our shoes constantly and it got on our equipment, the cars…_everywhere_."

Joseph shrugged. "Surely, we can find a place for-"

"Look over by the desk. You'll see imprints of shoes and a few with pieces of the soles…ask Shades how they got there."

"What?"

"Just take my advice. If you insist on Miss Parker moving her toilet paper, then don't stand in one spot too long," Victor said gravely, "or they'll be prying you out of hardened wax with a flat-headed screw driver, too."

With that, Victor bid Joseph goodbye and good luck.

Thirty minutes later, the department heads had gathered in the security room at his request and listened silently as he explained his idea. So far, no one seemed much taken with it. While Joseph waited for their reaction, he glanced about the floor. Just as Victor said, there were imprints of shoes scattered about the room like fossil tracks. There was half a sole stuck in one beside the desk.

"Mr. Coraza, do I understand you to say that you want to teach the staff to guard Their Majesties?" Cates, the butler asked.

"No, not at all," he replied, pulling his attention back to the staff. "What I wish to do is educate the employees in ways they might help us keep a closer watch on what is occurring in the palace. The staff is in daily contact with a number of visitors, delivery persons, workmen, and so on. If shown how to observe for unusual-"

"Mr. Cordanza, are you _implying_ me staff doesn't keep an eye out for those what might be _troublemakers?_" Miss Parker asked, coming to her feet and waddling closer to where he stood. "Furthermore, me girls work _hard_ and have _no time_ to be doing the _work_ what's been assigned to _your_ men!"

"Miss Parker, this does not require any extra wor-"

"Me girls keep this palace a _proper_ home for Their Majesties and it's a _full-time_ _job_, it is, Mr. Cordoba," she said loftily, drawing herself up as tall as possible, which was about level with Joseph's armpits. She glared up at him, her white hat bobbing as she continued, gathering steam. "The Housekeeping staff works from before sun-up 'till after sundown then into the night and has no time to _waste_, unlike _some_ staff what has time to sit and watch the _telly_ screen all hours of the day!"

The look she shot towards Shades, at the monitor, was a hard one. Shades slunk a bit lower in his seat with his coffee and pretended not to have heard her.

"Ma'am, they monitor-"

"_And what's more_, I'll _not_ have me good girls wearin' no _knife_ in their _knickers!_"

There was a gasp followed by a coughing spasm by Shades, for which Anton helpfully pounded him vigorously on the back. Cates expression never changed, but his face was a bright red.

"Knife in their- Miss Parker, what are you talking about?" Joseph demanded incredulously.

"I know you _spy_ types- walking around wearing an _arsenal_ of weapons and such! Why, just the other day the queen's maids was having a _time_ trying to cut open a box when that Mr. Anton over there-" said agent tried to make his six-two frame half its size "-whipped out a blade _as big as me arm_ and-"

"Miss Parker, let me assure you-"

"_You're_ one to speak! What with you wearing that _gun_ on your chest and one in your _pocket!_"

"Ma'am, there is no gun in my pock-" Joseph stopped suddenly, embarrassed.

In the corner, Anton and Shades snickered while Cates and the other supervisors studied their shoes, shoulders shaking.

"And furthermore, Mr. Corzada," Miss Parker declared, sucking in a quick breath, coming to a crescendo, "me girls _won't_ be letting _you_ put them _metal brassieres_ 'round they chests,_ and neither will you be touching me own bosoms!_"

The very thought of such an experience involving the Head of Housekeeping robbed Joseph of speech.

_"Interloper!"_ Miss Parker huffed, driving the wooden stake deep. Despite her height, she managed to look down her nose at him then spun on her heel and left.

There was silence for a very long moment.

"I think I'm lucky to have lived through that," Joseph finally said.

Cates cleared his throat. "Yes, sir."

"Last month, sir, she gave me four and a half minutes of blistering for letting the chrysanthemum blooms shed on the entranceway table," Manuel, the Chief Gardener said, his voice just above a whisper. "Tracked me to the manure pile, she did. I'd rather have to tell the queen her roses have aphids than go through _that_ again!"

"Well," Joseph said, shaking his head, "she made her position clear."

Cates stepped forward. "Mr. Coraza, my staff will cooperate in any way we can."

"Thank you, Cates," Joseph replied.

"Same with the garage staff- although I don't know what it is we can do," the head mechanic offered.

"If my grounds keeping staff reports anything odd, I will tell you," Manuel added.

"Thank you, gentlemen. For the moment, that will have to suffice."

The men left and Joseph sat down on a case of toilet paper. His upcoming trip out of the country with King Rupert - and away from Miss Parker- was just what he needed. Perhaps, if he were lucky, the king would decide to extend his trip.


	2. Trouble

Worlds Apart

Chapter 2

For an out of country trip with the king, Joseph would rather have more than one agent with him. It was cutting safety very tight. However, manning did not permit such a luxury this time since both Queen Clarisse and Prince Philippe both required escorts to accompany them, too. The prince was in England on another of his research projects; Queen Clarisse had a full two days worth of public appearances in Genovia, and Joseph could not schedule her coverage short. Bringing Anton as their driver helped somewhat, allowing him or Bates, the other agent, to nap or take a break.

Despite his concerns, Joseph could not dwell on the inadequacies of his department at the moment for he had his hands full simply dealing with the king and seeing him safely through the evening.

The conference was between several monarchs of smaller nations, to discuss trade agreements and find ways to enhance their economic situation amongst the larger European countries. The hotel where they stayed was the site of most meetings, which made security arrangements less complicated, however King Rupert enjoyed spontaneity in his actions and it was giving Joseph a headache. He understood the king needed to be flexible, but his sudden decision to attend an informal meeting without allowing a thorough security check first had Joseph and his men scrambling.

"Sir, I've not had the opportunity to consult with the police chief about meas-"

"Tosh! It is simply a small gathering where we might meet and discuss affairs informally."

"Your Majesty, I am concerned about it being held at City Hall. I have spoken with several of my contacts across Europe and as you know, there are groups of anti-monarchists who've vowed to disrupt the talks. Just yester-"

Rupert waved his hand dismissively. "The City Hall is quite an impressive structure and will be a wonderful location for the meeting. Grand view of the original castle and the cathedral. I have full faith in our host's arrangements, don't you?"

"Sir, it is not my job to rely on _others_ for your protection," Joseph said, his frustration mounting. "It is _my_ responsibility and to do it adequately I must-"

"Yes, yes, I think we've been over this before." The king accepted a glass of scotch from his aide and turned his attention away from Joseph to the papers on the hotel suite's desk. "You are doing a fine job and I have no complaints, Mr. Coraza. I _will_ attend the meeting. I feel certain those few protesters who do show up will be kept well out of our way. Now, if you will allow me, I have only a few minutes and must prepare."

Williams, the king's aide, cast a warning glance toward Joseph then began quietly pointing out items in his report. Joseph gave His Majesty a small bow, and then walked into the adjoining room where Bates waited.

"Is he still going, sir?"

"Yes. He insists."

Bates watched his boss cross the room to the window then stand there, gazing out over the city.

"You think there might be trouble?"

Joseph did not reply for a moment before turning to face his agent and crossing his arms over his chest. "Given the intel reports we've received, you tell me what, if any, concerns you have."

Bates shrugged. "Well, everywhere a king goes, there's always a small crowd gathering to look. Where several kings are, there's bound to be a bigger crowd."

Joseph stared at him, waiting for more.

"Uh, there's talk of protesters…"

"Yes, there was a crowd of about four hundred at the University yesterday with more expected to join the ranks today."

Bates swallowed. "The University is across town, so a demonstration shouldn't cause a problem over here."

"What's to stop them from going elsewhere…such as City Hall?"

"The police have extra men posted."

"How many men? Is it enough?"

"I…I don't know, sir."

"Where are they stationed…on the streets...indoors? What are they prepared for- crowd control or could they handle a riot?"

Bates didn't answer and Joseph walked to him and laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "That's what we need to know, in order to prepare."

Bates nodded. "Yes, sir."

The door between the rooms opened and they heard the king's voice as he approached.

"Unfortunately," Joseph said, taking a deep breath"we don't have time. Let's go."

* * *

Sticking close to the king's side, Joseph waited as last minute conversations took place and the gathered sovereigns said their goodbyes. The Hall was crowded and he could hear the hum of voices from the large foyer below. Why had the police allowed so many people to enter the building? He wondered what was keeping Bates from rejoining him. With the cell phones not working well, he'd sent the agent to summon the car. 

He would prefer the king not walk through the lobby, particularly if there was not another agent to assist. There had been no time to scout the structure's layout, but from what few questions he'd had time to ask the staff upon their arrival, he knew the only way out, other than the small back steps used by the servants and staff, was the curved stairs that led to foyer. The king would refuse to use the staff stairs just as he'd refused to bring a bulletproof vest on the trip.

The king's aide nodded at something Rupert said then leaned close to Joseph's ear.

"I am going back to the hotel to make changes to tomorrow's arrangements for His Majesty. You will accompany him when he is ready to leave," Williams ordered.

It was all Joseph could do not to make further comment in return other than a terse "Of course." Williams made no secret of his displeasure over Joseph's active role in the king's day, and regarded him as one of the lower level employees. At present, it was not worth Joseph's time to set Williams straight.

Glancing around the room, looking for anyone who appeared out of place, Joseph wondered if there was even a soul at the palace who was not displeased over his becoming Head of Security. One person did come to mind- Queen Clarisse. As far as he could tell, he'd not done anything to displease Her Majesty….yet.

Rupert checked his watch, and then nodded to Joseph.

"Sir, Bates has yet to return. I would rather we wait until he does."

"Whatever for? It is but a simple thing to walk down the stairs and out the door," Rupert laughed.

"I am concerned about-"

"It has been a long day, Mr. Coraza, and I am ready to leave," Rupert said impatiently.

"As you wish. This way, Your Majesty," Joseph said, gesturing to the double doors across the room. It took a couple of minutes for the king to work his way through the crowd, but they soon found themselves at the top of the stairway landing.

"Quite a crowd turned out," Rupert said, leaning over to see the throng below.

"Your Majesty, perhaps we should take the other stairs."

"What? The one the servants use?" the king asked, incredulous. "My car is just outside the front door, is it not?"

"Yes, sir, however-"

"Then we shall go this way," Rupert said, walking purposefully toward the steps.

"Sir, I strongly urge you to-"

But, the king did not hear as he was already descending the staircase.

Joseph hurried after him, quickly taking a position in front of the king. The steps curved and more of the crowd came into view. From the way they were dressed, he did not think they were the social elite of Ravenstein. Joseph scanned the room below for Bates but did not see him. By the door, on the far side of the room, he saw two uniformed officers. Both appeared to be overwhelmed and were doing nothing to control the mob.

Heads turned as they neared the bottom of the stairs and Joseph tried not to think about how easy a target the king made, exposed as he was. He looked over his shoulder for a moment; Rupert was smiling broadly.

The crowd pressed closer as they took the last step onto the intricate tile flooring. Joseph motioned to the people nearest them to step back, but no one did. It was going to be nearly impossible to maneuver directly across, through the thickest part of the throng. They would have to go around the edges where there were fewer people. Joseph pulled out his cell phone while gesturing to the king to go to the right, to follow his lead.

There was no reception on his phone and frustrated, he clipped it back on his belt. There was a sudden shift in the crowd of people and someone bumped against him, then the king. Several of the onlookers began pushing each other.

Joseph took the king's arm.

"Sir, we must leave here! We will take a back exit and-"

Rupert pulled his arm free indignantly. "I most certainly will not!"

"It is not safe-" Joseph called above the noise, trying to keep his body between the king and the boisterous crowd. "You _must not-_"

Rupert shook his head. "I don't think there's any dan-"

_"Sir, I insist!"_ Joseph grabbed Rupert by the arm again and pulled him toward a service door. He might lose his job over this but at least the king would be safe. Rupert resisted, jerking his arm free. He stepped back from Joseph, affronted.

"Really! You forget yourself, sir!"

The crowd surged forward and there was a shout.

_"Death to monarchs!"_

Seizing Rupert, Joseph pushed him to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash- a knife- and he spun around covering the king with his body.

Joseph felt a sharp, stinging bite as the blade scraped across his left side and ribs, slicing crossways to catch the corner of his abdomen.

Suddenly quiet, the crowd watched, and then burst into screams as his shirt reddened.

_That's why,_ Joseph thought dispassionately in the split second he glanced down, _black clothing is preferable to white- it did not show blood._

The crowd fell back and he reached for the door, jerked it open, and then roughly shoved Rupert through. On the other side, he locked it behind them then turned to the king.

"We must get out of here, Your Majesty," he gasped, leaning against the door, his arm held tightly against his stomach.

"My God! You're…you've been hurt!" Rupert said hoarsely, his face white.

Joseph reached for his phone and flipped it open.

"Here, let me do that," Rupert said, taking it from Joseph. His hands shook.

"Press redial," Joseph replied, looking about the hall where they stood. It was plain and narrow. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what little he knew of the layout. He heard shouting from the other side of the door and fervently hoped it was more police arriving- but he wasn't going to open the door to find out.

"Hello...hello? The connection is breaking up! Hello!" Rupert shook his head worriedly. "There's nothing! I can't get through!"

Joseph took the cell phone and slipped it into his pocket. "The signal is too poor." He sucked in air sharply as he pushed away from the door. "We must go."

"We can't! You're bleeding- we must get help!"

Joseph straightened as best he could and faced the king, his jaw tight.

_"How do you propose we do that, Your Majesty?"_

King Rupert stared at him for a moment. He nodded and took a steadying breath. "You're quite right, Joseph. Forgive me. Which way?"

Joseph tilted his head to the side, considering. "I think there, and to the left. It should bring us out near the kitchen area."

After two wrong turns, they ended up in the kitchen to the great surprise of the catering staff that was busily cleaning up. Someone quickly pressed a towel to him and within minutes uniformed officer arrived to escort them to the limousine.

A very worried Bates pushed him into the back seat with the king, and Anton sped away before the last door slammed shut. Joseph sank wearily into the plush leather seat and closed eyes. One way or another, he swore, he would get the funds needed for proper staffing and equipment…if the king didn't fire him when they returned to Genovia.

In actuality, obtaining the funds took no further effort on his part. Stitched up and drugged against the pain, Joseph awoke in his hotel room the next morning to find King Rupert sitting by the window with a cup of coffee in hand, deep in thought. He made to get up, but thought better of it as fire burned across his gut.

"Ah, so you are awake! Very good" Rupert said, relieved. He came to stand by the bed. "How do you feel?"

"Well, Your Majesty" Joseph lied.

Rupert snorted. "Like Hell! Here, these are pain pills- tiny things, but the emergency room doctor promised they would help." He shook two white pills into his palm. "It's been a while since you had that last shot at the hospital, so it's time you took these."

"I'll wait. They might make me sleep."

"Take them," Rupert ordered. His voice softened. "I feel terrible as it is. The very least you can do is not lie there in agony."

Joseph laughed then quickly regretted it. "No jokes, sir."

Rupert helped him with a glass of water to wash down the pills then sat in a nearby chair.

"Well, Coraza, I owe you an apology, along with my life," he said, stretching his legs out. He regarded Joseph intently.

"Sir, it isn't necessary to-"

"Yes, it is! If I hadn't been so stubborn and had used some sense, none of this would have happened."

"It was a confusing moment and-"

"Don't make excuses for me!" Rupert sat forward in his chair. "I should have listened to you! Clarisse warned me my bull-headedness, as she calls it, would bring trouble one day and it has- could have damned well gotten you killed!"

The king stood and paced to the window then abruptly turned back to face him. "I didn't listen to you before, but I'm listening now. You tell me what you need to properly guard my family and protect your staff. Make a list of any and everything necessary. And men- you asked for more staff and you shall have it!"

He looked away. "I do not want _anything_ like today occurring again." Rupert shook his head and closed his eyes. "If it had been Clarisse…"

Joseph took a deep breath, ignoring the pain. An attempt on the life of the king was unthinkable; an attempt on the life of the queen was his worst fear.

Rupert faced him. "You asked for a minimum of five extra men- hire ten, at the least- more if needed. When you are well, go to London and purchase equipment as you see fit. Don't worry about the cost- I'll take care of the funding. I want my family protected."

Joseph swallowed; his mouth felt like cotton and, on top of it all, he medicine _was_ making him drowsy. His words were slow. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'll see to it."

Frowning, the king moved to the side of the bed. "We'll discuss this later. For now, you need to sleep."

"Where's Bates? What are your plans?" he asked groggily.

"Sleep, Joseph." Then, because he knew his Head of Security would not rest until assured, he patiently added"I have changed my remaining meetings to here, in my suite. I will not leave the hotel until we depart for the airport this evening. Would you prefer we delay our departure to allow you more time to rest?"

"No, sir…won't be necessary," Joseph replied as quickly as his tired, fogged brain would allow. Sleep sounded very good at that moment.

"Very well." Rupert hesitated, and then spoke again. "There is one more thing- I want your personal priority to be my wife's safety. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty" Joseph mumbled, eyes closing. There was the soft click of a lamp switch then the sound of the door closing. That he would look after Queen Clarisse and guard her with his very life were his last thoughts before sleep overtook him.


	3. Two ladies

Worlds Apart Chapter 3

Hardly aware of the morning's sunlight on the brilliant-colored leavesoutside the sunroom's French doors, Clarisse buttered a small triangle of whole-wheat toast then forced herself to take a bite. The news of the attempt on Rupert's life upset her greatly last evening, so much so that even his late phone call to reassure her of his well-being had not lessened her worry. Disturbing images interrupted her sleep and she was up long before daylight.

With her free hand, she picked up one of the carefully folded newspapers a servant had placed on the table for her. The story of the attack filled the front page of The Genovian Times, accompanied by pictures of the aftermath and ones of Rupert at earlier meetings. Their close friend Stefan, King of Ravenstein, had called and apologized repeatedly, appalled what had transpired in his nation. If Stefan was having difficulty with dissatisfied subjects, could there be trouble in the future with their own? Genovia had its own fair share of young people who undoubtedly were more worldly than the previous generation. Would Genovia, too, soon find discontent among its citizens? Shaking her head sadly, Clarisse turned her attention back to the article.

Wire reports stated that student protests at Ravenstein College had moved across town and turned unruly at the capitol's historic City Hall. Eyewitnesses reported a scuffle, followed by King Rupert's quick departure through a side door. There were also reports that his guard sustained serious injuries, with rumors ranging from the man barely clinging to life as he crawled from the room, to his taking out a dozen assailants barehanded.

Rushed by police waiting for his statements of what happened, Rupert did not mention in his call which guard was with him at the time, but she knew it had to have been Joseph Coraza. In every picture, he was near her husband an arm's length away. She recalled their short discussion a few weeks earlier when Rupert rejected the colonel's plans for expanding the security force. Now, Colonel Coraza was wounded, perhaps critically.

The hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach grew and she prayed his injury was not severe. Would he be able to continue at his job? After this, would he even _want_ to? Colonel Coraza might decide to leave. Clarisse set the paper aside along with the rest of the toast, unable to eat anymore.

When she left her rooms half an hour ago, there was a message from the security person called Shades, for some odd reason, offering a briefing on what occurred. It would be her first item of business this morning. Last night, he suggested she curtail her public meetings for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. She was not pleased to do so, but recalling how Rupert had disregarded Joseph's advice, she thought better of it and agreed. Her secretary would reschedule her appointments as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, she would stay busy at her desk seeing to correspondence and reports that needed studying in hopes the day would pass quickly; Rupert was due home in time for dinner, as was Philippe. Their son had called as soon as he got word of the attack and was flying back from London where he had been attending a history symposium.

Despite his promise to consider his responsibilities to the people and the crown, he had yet to give her or Rupert an answer. Her husband was content to let him be, saying their son would, of course, fulfill his duty when duty called. Clarisse was not so certain; Philippe concerned her greatly. With a sigh, she placed her napkin on the table and rose, gesturing to the waiting staff that she was finished.

* * *

Up all afternoon with police, Joseph was tired despite having slept the better part of the morning in his hotel room after the king's visit. There was testimony to give, papers to sign, and security measures for the trip home to go over. Rupert, true to his word, did not leave the hotel but stayed in his suite for the final meetings and cancelled the ones he would have had to attend outside. A doctor had come by shortly before they left, checked Joseph's sutures, and changed the bandage with a caution to rest for the next two weeks. As if he could, Joseph thought wryly as he stepped out the private jet's doorway and into the chill late evening air of Genovia. It was dusk, the night sky a deepening blue-black. Stars were beginning to appear. 

He descended the airplane's steps slowly, each movement tugging at the stitches in his side. He'd personally overseen the departure and flight plans and was with Rupert from the moment they left the hotel. Quite frankly, he did not have full faith in his staff. Clearing the road at his request, the Ravenstein police escorted the king to the airport and the departure had gone smoothly as had the hour and a half flight. He was glad to be back in Genovia despite the throng of reporters waiting for the king.

A flash went off close by, momentarily blinding him and he held tightly to the railing before continuing carefully. The flashes increased and the reporters shouted questions; Rupert was exiting the jet behind him. When he reached the bottom, Shades clapped him gently on the shoulder.

"Welcome home, sir."

"Thank you. It's good to be back," he replied, stepping away from the stairs and scanning the crowd. A line of police stood at attention in front of the low barricades that cordoned off the press and spectators. More officers stood in pairs on the tarmac between the king and possible troublemakers. On the stairs, Rupert had paused to wave. Joseph let his gaze sweep the entire area again. "Security looks tight. Good work."

Pleased at the compliment, Shades stood a bit taller. "I've heard nothing to cause alarm, but didn't want to take any chances."

The Chief of Police stepped closer and offered his hand which Joseph shook. "Glad to see you in one piece, Coraza."

"Thanks. Your men look sharp."

The Chief nodded. "They're coming along. Call if you need any extra manpower in the coming days."

"I'll keep it in mind," Joseph replied, surprised at the suggestion. The department had never refused his request for men, but they'd never offered any, either. The chief moved aside to confer with one of his staff and Joseph turned to his right as the king neared the bottom of the stairway.

Rupert stepped onto the tarmac, followed by Williams, who went directly to the podium and microphone to address the crowd. Shades immediately directed the king to the nearby limousine as the aide began giving His Majesty's statement to the press, assuring everyone of their sovereign's well-being.

Joseph made to move alongside Rupert, but two of his men quickly stepped forward and flanked the king, escorting him the short distance. Without a hitch, the car pulled away. In all, it had taken less than one and a half minutes, door to door.

He was, he had to admit, impressed. A week ago, he would have doubted if his staff could have pulled it off without his being there to coordinate every move. He smiled. There was hope, yet.

"Sir, if you are ready, we can follow," Shades said. Under the spotlights, to the rear of the plane, sat the Suburban. Anton waited by the door.

Joseph nodded. "Yes, let's go home."

"Their Majesties have retired for the evening, the place is secure, and every post is manned…all is well and quiet," Shades announced, dropping into a seat at the desk where Joseph sat looking over the security assignments for the coming week. He kicked at the brick holding up one leg of the desk, knocking it back square under it. "Would you like for me to drop you off at your apartment on my way home, boss?"

Exhausted, Joseph glanced at his watch, blinking to bring the small dial into focus - it was past midnight. He closed the folder and tossed it in the desk drawer that was stuck halfway open. By the time he got home and to sleep, it'd be nearly time to up to come back in. "No, I need to make a couple of calls early in the morning about the upcoming trip next week. I'll stay here."

Shades frowned at him in disapproval. "You must be beat- why not get some sleep and see to it later? I'll make the calls, if you like."

Joseph shook his head then rubbed a hand across his face. "I want to check with a few of my contacts from Interpol to find out more about that group we met up with yesterday." He let his eyes close for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the desk, and continued. "I want to make sure there's no organized agenda that might be directed at the king."

"You still worried?"

"Not much. I doubt if the king was targeted. I think he just happened along at the wrong time, but I want to be certain."

Shades nodded. "Makes sense. You'll take some time off afterwards though, right?"

"I'll take a couple days after that's done."

"Ok," Shades said, satisfied. "Uh, boss, where you gonna sleep?"

Joseph pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as Hans came in, ready to take the desk for the night shift. "That's a good question."

"I'll call the housekeeper on duty and-"

"No, don't bother," he broke in, the image of Miss Parker coming to mind. He leaned back in the chair. "I'll find something."

Joseph looked around the room then at the mountain of toilet paper along the wall. Toward the end of the row, the bales were stacked only waist high. His mouth twisted into a tired grin as he stood and shrugged off his jacket. "I'll put Miss Parker's precious stock to good use," he said, walking across the room, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Can't be very comfortable," Hans said critically; watching Joseph carefully lay down then tuck an arm under his head with his jacket covering him.

"I've slept in a lot worse conditions," Joseph answered, half yawning.

Shades shook his head and waved goodnight to Hans, who turned off all the lights and picked up the phone. After a quick call to the shift leader at the palace reception area not to call unless it was an emergency, Hans settled down behind the computer with his thermos of coffee and dimmed the monitor. Before long, a soft snoring sound filled the quiet room.

* * *

Just prior to daybreak, the door squeaked opened, and two housekeeping staff entered. They stopped, staring at the body asleep on the makeshift bed of toilet paper. 

"If you wake him up," Hans hissed softly, rising to his full height, leaning over the desk, "you'll answer to _me_!"

Mouths open, the men quickly backed away and left. Pleased, Hans sat, primed and ready for the next intruders. Mr. Coraza would be disturbed only over his battered, bruised body.

Seventeen minutes later, the door was flung open.

"_Why_ is it," Miss Parker bellowed as she stormed into the room followed closely by a small entourage, "me _staff_ can't do their _work_?"

Hans slid down as low in his chair as possible, quickly revising his vow. His boss was on his own.

She flipped on the overhead bank of fluorescent lights and set her sights on her stockpile of paper, watching squinty-eyed as Joseph stirred, then slowly raised up on one arm.

He frowned and held a hand up trying to block the glare, then gingerly twisted around to sit on the edge of the bales. "Miss Parker…I'm sorry to have-"

"And what would _you_ be doin' _sleeping_ on me toilet paper?"

"I'm afraid it was late and there was no other-"

"And _bleedin'_ on it at that!"

He looked. Blood had seeped through the bandage and his undershirt. He stood and glanced down at the white rolls protected by a thick covering of plastic.

"I don't think any got on them," he said, wincing as he slipped one arm then the other into the sleeve of his jacket to cover up.

Miss Parker stared at him, hands on her hips. Everyone was silent.

"I understand you managed to _leap_ at a dagger and get yourself hurt over there in Ravenstein while protecting our king. Planning to _fling_ yourself at more knives in the future, are you?"

"I assure you, I did not fling-"

"Don't know _why_ you want to handle them troublemakers so _carelessly _when there's an _easier_ way." She looked him up and down, openly sizing him up. "Now, Mr. Cozara, I'm not saying you don't know _a little bit _about being a security guard, but… well, you don't see the _Avenger_ Mr. John Steed stopping no knife _that_ a'way."

Joseph covered his eyes with his hand and nearly groaned, his head hurting almost as much as his ribs and back from an uncomfortable night. Now, he had this to contend with. "Miss Parker, give me thirty minutes and I will go home to-"

"_Home_? And _who_ is it that will be looking after you at _home_? There's no _Mrs. Cordaro_, is there?"

He dropped his hand. Why hadn't he taken Shades up on his offer last night? "No, I'm not-"

"That's _just_ what I'm saying! Mr. John Steed had that _nice_ Mrs. Emma Peel to take care of him, but even so _he_ stopped them bad fellas more _gentlemanly-like_ and didn't get his self all _tore up_ the way _you_ decided to." She peered at him. "Mr. Corzada, you ever thought about getting a good, sturdy umbrella or cane?"

"What?" he asked, trying to make sense of her sudden change of subject. His head began to pound. "Why would–"

"A stout cane's just the _thing_ for fighting off them what's trying to cause problems!" she explained enthusiastically. Her voice dropped and took on a shade of awe. "You see, one time Mr. Steed and Mrs. Peel was _trapped_ in an _alleyway_ and he-"

"Miss Parker," Joseph interrupted loudly, swaying as he walked to the desk. He clung to it as he sat on its edge, the desk rocking on its uneven legs. "I sincerely apologize for delaying your staff's duties, _but_-"

"It's a _pity_!" Miss Parker boomed, pointing at Joseph and turning her glare on Shades, who'd just entered the room. "Not a _bite_ of _breakfast_ waiting for the man! All them fellows you have scattered about, waiting for a body to _pop_ out of the bushes or come _sneaking_ in on the bread truck, and you can't send not _one_ of them over to the kitchen to get Mr. Corada a morsel for his _poor, suffering body_?"

Mouth open, Shades froze in the doorway that led to the rear courtyard parking lot. "Uh, I just got here and I don't know anyth-"

"Come _trottin'_ in at this _late_ an hour and here Mr. Cozora is up already and in need of _relief and comforting_," she snapped, ignoring the fact that she was the one who woke him up. She turned to the bevy of maids and janitors watching wide-eyed. "Dora! Hurry down to the kitchen and ask Gerta to fix a tray of food that'll _stick_ to Mr. Caroza's ribs. Edna! Turn down the covers in that extra room near the butler's pantry- I'm meaning the one at the _quiet_ end of the hallway and be sure to put an extra pillow on the bed and make sure the room's warm enough."

The girls bobbed once and scurried away.

"Miss Parker, that's not necessary." He eased off the desk. "I'll just-"

"If you _insist_ on getting yourself hurt protecting our king," she continued imperiously, marching across the room to stand in front of him, "the _considerate_ thing for you to do is not go _wandering_ around about all deathly _pale_ like you're about to _pass out_ on the good furniture. _Mark my words_, if you want to steer clear of_ inflicting_ yourself next time, you'll take _my_ advice and get that _cane_!"

"If you please, ma'am," Joseph began, alarmed at how much it sounded as if he was begging. He took a step toward Shades. Freedom was just yards away. "I'll just go now."

"That's more like it! I _knew_ you'd see it _my_ way. Gerald! Show Mr. Cadaza to the room Edna's readying."

He looked desperately at Shades for help, but found none. Shades still had one hand on the doorknob, ready to flee.

"I'll see to the airport and hotel arrangements and speak with you about them this afternoon, sir," Shades said, uneasily. He glanced at Miss Parker, hoping he'd not riled her further.

Joseph sighed, the battle lost. A few hours sleep in a real bed _was_ tempting, he had to admit. He felt no better now than he did the night before, if not worse. His stomach growled. "It _would_ save me time..."

Shades nodded in agreement, relieved to see Miss Parker's scowl at him had lessened to a mere glare. "Yes, sir. I'll have someone run you home when you're ready."

Sitting up, Hans gathered his courage and finally spoke. "I'll bring the first aid kit and change your dressing."

Joseph steeled himself and turned to face Miss Parker, trying to force a pleasant expression on his face. "Thank you for your kindness, ma'am. I hope I'm not being a burden to your staff."

"Well, you _are_, but that's neither here nor there," she sniffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Gerald, show him to the room then notify the kitchen he's ready to eat. Mind you walk _slow_ since Mr. Cazada is as _weak_ as a helpless_ babe!_"

Joseph resigned himself to losing yet another round to Miss Parker. He was certain he would never hold more than a nominal amount of authority at the palace, receive a shred of respect from the staff, or work in an office free of toilet paper.

He did his best to hold his head up as he walked unsteadily out of the room.

* * *

After breakfast in bed, six hours of uninterrupted sleep, two pain pills, three cups of coffee, and an extra helping of beef vegetable soup with half a loaf of heavy dark bread, Joseph felt much better. With great thanks, he politely refused Gerta's offer of more food and pushed his chair back from the kitchen table. He had work to do. 

"Her Majesty wishes to see you at your convenience," Williams said from the doorway.  
"Is there a problem?" Joseph asked, standing carefully- the pain was less, but he was still sore. He walked across the kitchen and into the hallway.

"No, no problem." Williams slowed his steps to match Joseph's. After an awkward pause, he looked away and continued hesitantly. "What you did…that is, preventing harm to His Majesty…"

"My job," Joseph said shortly, slowly negotiating his way up a short flight of stairs.

"Still…you put yourself in danger and-"

"I look after Their Majesties' safety in whatever manner I must," Joseph interrupted, preferring to drop the subject.

His injury was embarrassing enough as it was without the added attention of the media and the palace staff. Had he not allowed the king's arguing to distract him, he would have been able to deflect the knife. The lapse in attention was worthy of a rank amateur, not a professional of his experience and skill. He was grateful his momentary failure had not resulted in harm to the king.

Williams opened his mouth to speak again, but did not and was quiet until they reached the door. He turned and faced Joseph, standing at something close to attention. "Mr. Coraza, I have the guest list and particulars for the Pear Ball that you requested and I'll notify you at once of the guests' arrival times and of any changes. My office is at your disposal, sir."

For a second, Joseph was unable to hide his astonishment at the king's aide's sudden turnabout in deference. He caught himself. "Thank you, Williams. Your office is very efficient. That makes our job easier."

Williams smiled and opened the door to the patio then held it for him. "You are quite welcome. Please let me know if I or my staff can ever be of _any_ assistance to you or your men. Her Majesty is in the garden, sir."

* * *

Queen Clarisse breathed deeply of the sweetly scented mauve rose cupped gently in her palms. Her garden, the only pastime she allowed herself, was in many ways her haven. She thought better, it seemed, when walking along the bricked and pebbled paths that wound their way around the fountains, gazebos, and statuary. When time permitted, she enjoyed wandering alone among the flowers and shrubs, delighting in the changing colors throughout the seasons. 

The roses, however, were her favorite. Planning the garden, choosing where to place each hybrid tea or grandiflora in the beds, and deciding which floribunda to fill the urns placed about the garden had given her great satisfaction and pleasure. That several of her stock had come from the garden of her grandmother, fellow enthusiasts across the continent, and her late friend Bettina Addington made it all the more special. Her garden was a place of memories and peace.

At the moment, however, she was anything but calm. Throughout the day, Rupert downplayed the incident saying he'd not been in immediate danger. She did not believe him for a moment and knew that he, too, was upset and was putting up a brave front for her benefit. She'd lain awake in his arms last night, her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat, comforting herself in the knowledge he was safe. Having him home had not taken away her worries.

She drew her thoughts back to the present and again breathed in the rose's perfume. Closing her eyes, she lost herself its distracting pleasure and a smile touched her lips. For these few seconds, she would put her fears aside and not think of what could have happened. Clarisse sighed audibly.

Nearby, a man cleared his throat.

Her eyes flew open.

"I'm sorry to have startled you, Your Majesty."

Embarrassed, Clarisse let go of the bloom and clasped her hands in front of her, assuming a regal composure. "Good afternoon, Col-… Joseph."

"Good afternoon. I was told you wished to see me, ma'am."

"Yes, I did. Thank you for coming."

"If you are busy, I can return later." He nodded to the roses that had held her attention before he interrupted her.

"No, I was just taking a few moments to myself outside," she quickly replied. "The day is very fine."

He looked up at the blue sky and she used the moment to look at him closely. He looked tired, perhaps slightly paler than she remembered with the lines at the corner of his eyes and mouth more pronounced. Otherwise, to her great relief, he appeared to be in no distress.

Clarisse wondered what type of man would intentionally put himself in danger as Joseph Coraza had. She knew it was the job of the security staff to see to her and her husband's safety, but she always thought it was a matter of simply arranging the proper police escorts, keeping the more enthusiastic well-wishers at a distance, and such. She'd never considered it would mean actually risking their lives. Yet Joseph had.

Their new Head of Security was a remarkable man.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. Joseph looked at the rose she had been holding. "That is a beautiful flower."

Her expression softened and she reached out to lightly touch a petal. "It is my favorite," she admitted.

He looked surprised. "Of all these," he said, sweeping his gaze across the garden then back to her, "you can select just one as a favorite?"

"It is a new hybrid." She blushed modestly. "It was named in my honor."

Joseph nodded, a smile touching the corner of his mouth. "Appropriately so."

"Thank you." Her blush deepened and she looked away. "You must be uncomfortable; would you care to sit for a moment?"

He hesitated before answering. "If you wish, ma'am."

"It is still rather warm out in the sun, despite it being autumn. I don't think we will have many more days like this," she observed. "Let's sit in the gazebo."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement and followed, staying two steps behind her.

Queen Clarisse led him to the gazebo's only bench and sat. Slowly, he took a seat on the far end, glancing about the area, concerned about propriety. They were in plain view of the gardening staff trimming the nearby hedges. His and Her Majesty's movements easily seen, so there could be no questioning of decorum.

He relaxed, enjoying the shade. The walk from the kitchen was a short one, but he had found it uncomfortable and it felt good to rest for a moment. Birds chirped melodiously and a butterfly flitted to a pot of chrysanthemums. To his left, climbing roses spread along the railing.

"A very pleasant place," he offered.

"Yes. It is my special place." Clarisse looked past him, smiling again. "It affords a lovely view of the entire garden and the fields beyond."

Careful not to pull the stitches, he turned so that he could see the area behind the formal landscaping. Bright blooms dotted the meadow in the far distance beyond a break in the trees. He turned back to her. "More flowers?"

She laughed. "Yes, wildflowers. I had them sown last spring."

Her attention still on the countryside, he allowed himself to look at her openly for a moment. The fresh air had brought a pink glow to her skin and he thought her lovelier than the first time he'd seen her.

It still caused him a great deal of humiliation to recall how he had mistaken her for a member of the palace staff. He'd hoped for a relationship with her and was on the act of asking her to dinner when the king and Victor entered the room. His jaw tightened. If the interruption hadn't occurred, preventing him from finishing his invitation…

Joseph looked to where the gardeners were carefully shaping the boxwoods and raking fallen leaves from the borders. Just like them, he was a mere employee and a commoner…and she was a queen.

Abruptly, he stood. It would be foolish to ever forget that fact.

"Is there something Your Majesty wished to discuss?" he asked, walking to the opposite railing. He turned and faced her, hands behind his back, his expression one of dutiful respect.

"No, not really," she said coming to stand near him. "I wanted to say thank you…for saving my husband's life."

"It is not necessary, Your Majesty. It is why I am here," he replied matter-of-factly.

"To willing put yourself in danger?" she asked without thinking.

"I do whatever may be required," he replied quietly.

She stared at him. "The man was carrying a weapon- he could have killed you!"

The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement and he shook his head. "Perhaps with a firearm, but not with a knife- I am more competent than that- _usually_."

The queen paled and he immediately regretted his words.

She stepped closer, touching his arm. "It was a _terrible_ incident, frightening to simply hear of it!"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I did not mean to make light of what happened. Security matters _are_ very serious." Joseph forced himself to move slightly, away from her touch. "I am accustomed to…certain risks and I sometimes forget that others are not."

Her brown eyes still shone with worry. He quickly continued, trying to make amends and assure her.

"Again, I am sorry. It was thoughtless of me. The objective of our work is to ensure that nothing like that could ever occur."

Clarisse took a deep breath, considering. "You are well qualified- I have no doubt of that. But, please understand that there has _never_ been an attempt or even a threat to a Genovian royal in recent times. We've never considered such a thing happening before. If it should again…"

"You have every right to be troubled over the incident, or even frightened, ma'am," he said, again berating himself for his tactlessness. "However, I am nearly certain King Rupert was not a specific target. It was an incident of chance."

"This incident- it was caused in part by my husband's ignoring your advice, wasn't it?" The queen looked at him directly, demanding he be truthful.

"There were several factors. One was an unruly crowd, another was insufficient police presence," he said, trying to avoid criticizing his sovereign.

"Rupert did not listen to you, did he?" she insisted.

He did not answer.

"Oh, Joseph, I am so sorry!" Clarisse stepped to the railing and looked out over her roses. "You were injured because of…" Her voice trailed off and she became silent.

He moved to stand beside her then spoke firmly. "Your Majesty, I am fully aware of the hazards my job entails. It is _my_ responsibility to see to security arrangements, not His Majesty's. If someone is injured, _I_ am accountable- no one else. As for what happened, it is a lesson learned."

She gazed at him sadly. "Perhaps there was a lesson learned, but you have paid the price and a dear one, at that."

He lifted his right shoulder in a shrug. "It is not a very serious injury. A few days of rest and light duty and I will be fine."

"And the next time?" she asked.

"I have not spoken with the king since our return, but he earlier indicated a desire to make changes in his security forces," Joseph replied, hoping it gave his queen a measure of reassurance.

Clarisse smiled knowingly. "What you mean is he finally quit being stubborn."

There was no acceptable answer to her comment, so he stayed silent.

"I'm sorry to have put you on the spot," she laughed. "My husband can be rather obstinate, but I assure you that when he decides to accomplish a goal, he gives it his complete attention."

"I am pleased to hear that, Your Majesty."

"As am I."

Neither spoke for a long moment. Joseph glanced at her once more as she looked out over the garden.

"So, you plan to stay?" she asked hesitantly.

"Ma'am?"

"You will not be leaving us?" she asked, still not looking at him.

"I have no plans to leave, Your Majesty." Did she think he might resign because of the incident?

"Good. That is good to know," she said, relieved. She turned and smiled at him. "I'm very glad you will be staying."

Joseph felt himself becoming lost in her eyes, her smile. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs.

_Did she love Rupert or was theirs a marriage of convenience? Did she find fulfillment at his side and in his arms?_

"Is there anything more you need of me, ma'am?" he asked suddenly, squaring his shoulders, pushing the questions from his mind. He could not let those thoughts grow. While he did not regret taking the job, he knew he would have to learn to deal with the feelings he had for her- and very soon. They were far too dangerous.

"No," she replied. "I hope I have not kept you from your rest."

"Not at all."

He gave his queen a slight bow. "I am always at your service, Your Majesty. If you will excuse me?"

"Of course," she replied. "Thank you, again, Joseph."

He quickly left.

* * *

_Terribly sorry about the long wait- just not enough time, it seems!_

_Thanks for you reviews, comments, and encouragement- I appreciate them very much and make writing all the more enjoyable._

_Skelly, dear,you've been writing too many bullets on OPRs and PRFs..._


	4. Changes

Chapter 4

Joseph slowed his Mercedes as he entered the parking area then stopped. Something was different- black signs with namesprintedon themhad been placed along thelot's wall that now boasted a row of low hedges. He peered closely, wondering who had taken the initiative to spruce up the employee lot and assign parking spaces…and where he would find his spot.

He started at the far end, where he expected to be placed, a generous walk away from the building. _Head Chef...Kitchen Supervisor… Maintenance Supervisor…Head of Purchasing…Head of Grounds…Head Butler…_he read, creeping forward…_Chief of Protocol…Sec. to His RH… Sec. to Her RH… …Head of Housekeeping… _Coming to the end of the row, he hit the brakes and stared. His name was on the spot closest to the employee entrance….right next to Miss Parker's fire engine red Mini with the black and gold racing stripes.

He pulled in the space and looked again, just to be sure. _Head of Security_. After a moment, he got out of his car.

"Good morning, sir!" a nearby squad of maintenance workers called out. Joseph spun around, looking behind him, to see to whom they were speaking. Was the king out for a stroll in the car park? There was no one there. He turned back to find the men watching him, waiting. A man, apparently their foreman, stepped forward, hat in hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Coraza. A fine day, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is," he said, recovering from his surprise. The foreman stepped aside so that he could see newly poured sidewalk through what used to be a path of ever-present mud or dust. "This is looking very impressive."

"Thank you, sir." The foreman beamed. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"Much better, thank you." And he did. The wounds were still painful, but less sharp than before and mild painkillers were adequate. He'd stayed home an extra couple of days at his doctor's insistence, so was ready to get back to work.

He frowned, wondering if he'd missed something before his trip with the king to Ravenstein. Security was routinely notified of any construction work, be it large or small, and he could not recall anything being scheduled for the area behind the palace. The parking lot was a makeshift onesince the old, pavedemployee lot was now the site ofthe palace's new cooling and heating works.

"I didn't realize changes were being planned."

"They weren't, sir. That is, not until three days ago when Miss Parker decided it was necessary."

"Miss Parker? But, she's in charge of housekeeping."

"Yes, sir, that she is," the foreman agreed, nodding his head in complete agreement. His answer did nothing to clear up Joseph's confusion. Miss Parker, it seemed, also worked in mysterious ways.

"At any rate, it's a great improvement," Joseph added as he turned to walk towards a door ten meters beyond the hall entrance, which led directly into the security area. "Your men are doing fine work."

"Thank you, sir! They are at that!" the man replied proudly. Behind him, Joseph heard the scrape of shovels as work resumed.

Freshly laid gravel crunched underfoot in the lot. No more mire on rainy days, he thought, coming to the top of the short steps that led down half a flight to the lower-level room serving as the Security Center.

Despite the embarrassment he'd suffered four days ago, before what must have been half of his and Miss Parker's staff, he was glad to be back at work. Sitting about idle was not easy for Joseph; he preferred to be busy.

Soundlessly, the door swung open and he stepped inside…and blinked at the glare coming off the shiny, white floor.

"Wrong room," he muttered, wondering how he'd made such a mistake. He headed out the way he'd come in.

"Hey, boss!" Shades yelled. "Welcome back!"

He stopped, halfway out the door, and looked across the room to where Shades stood. The younger man grinned.

"You're looking a whole lot better," Shades said. He waved a hand broadly, taking in the whole room. "Big difference, huh?"

Joseph let the door fall shut behind him and surveyed the expanse of white, spotless flooring. "Yes…yes, it is."

Then, his gaze swept around the room itself. To his right, a new pair of wooden cabinets stood where the older, bent metal shelving had leaned tiredly against the wall.

In the center of the room was a large worktable with a dozen padded chairs neatly around it. A sleek, new computer table had replaced the peeling laminate desk, with its uneven legs and stuck drawers.

Across the room was…nothing.

"My bed's gone." Joseph went to stand where the bales of toilet paper had been. On the wall hung a huge corkboard next to an even larger dry-erase board.

"No, it's not," Shades laughed. "Come see what else is new."

A bit dazed, Joseph followed the younger man into the hallway. Shades grinned and flung open the first door on the left then stepped aside. "Our new storage room."

Empty shelves lined the walls- no cans of wax or polish, no jugs of disinfectant, no boxes of extra mop heads.

"I guess I'd better get busy and order equipment to put in here," Joseph said, the corner of his mouth starting to lift.

"Other rooms are almost empty, too. A shower's being installed in the utility closet and all fixtures in the john hasbeen replaced. We don't have to keep a coffee can under the sink to catch the leaks anymore. Also, there's a set of weights and other equipment in the room at the end of the hall. We didn't unpack them- thought it best to wait until the carpet's been installed."

"Carpet?"

"Yeah. There's enough room we can put down mats and do some hand to hand training, too."

"This is…incredible."

"Wait till you see this!" With a flourish, Shades opened the first door to their right and waved his hand grandly for Joseph to enter. "Your office."

Unable to hide his amazement, Joseph stood, hands on hips, in the middle of the room and stared. Along the wall to his right was a desk, his laptop plugged in and ready for use. In front of him was a low dresser topped by a lamp, phone, and clock radio. To his left was a single bed, the thick blanket stretched tight enough to bounce a coin on, and a floor to ceiling bookcase at its foot. Under his feet lay a multicolored woven rug.

"How did this happen?"

"Miss Parker."

Joseph looked sharply at the younger man. "Miss Parker? Last I recall she was ready to hang me."

"Well, apparently not." Shades leaned his hip against Joseph's desk and crossed his arms."The morning after you left, Miss Parker breezed in here with a squad of workers and within twenty-four hours had the room emptied, cleaned, and painted. The next day, the floors were stripped then polished and sealed. By last night, she had the furniture in place and the new phone lines in- we have five now."

Joseph whistled and shook his head in admiration. Miss Parker was certainly someone he wanted to have on his side, and perhaps now- by some miracle- he did. One could, at the very least,hope.

As he turned to leave, he noticed something in the shadowed corner, next to his dresser, behind the wastebasket. Curious, he crossed the room and picked it up.

It was a thick, sturdy cane….from Miss Parker.

* * *

_Short, I know, but I wanted to get this story going again. I have a couple more scenes to write, then the rest is pretty much already on paper. It should go faster, then._


	5. Moving on

Chapter 5

Joseph shut his door and settled back in the limousine's front seat as red flashing lights from the pair of escort vehicles reflected off his white shirt and tie.

"Let's go," he said, the sensitive microphone on his lapel easily picking up his voice and carrying it to his crew.

To his left, Anton put the car into gear then followed the police motorcade from the hotel's entrance out onto the streets of Geneva. Behind him, King Rupert and Her Majesty were discussing the reception they were to attend that night and the dinner the following evening. In his ear, he heard Shade's acknowledgment.

As soon as the funding had been arranged and he had discussed what gear would suit the royal family's situation best with several of his friends at Interpol, Joseph had flown to London and ordered new security equipment for the palace and his staff. By far, the most convenient devices were the lapel microphones and ear receivers his agents now wore. This allowed them to communicate immediately and discretely and to not rely on unpredictable cell phone service. While they had used them for the past week in Genovia, this evening was the first time they had used the wireless sets away from the palace or in a large social setting. He did not, however, anticipate any difficulties.

Cameras had been installed in the critical areas of the palace, such as entrances, and more were to be placed after the wiring was updated in other parts of the building. He had expected the heads of the various palace departments to grumble about the mess the improvements were causing, but to his surprise, there had been nary a remark.

Miss Parker had apparently passed the word that not only was he was accepted but that he was a hero. She proved to be a powerful ally, and had he known just how powerful, he sometimes joked to himself that he would have 'leaped at a knife', as she put it, just to get in her good graces before now. The staff bent over backwards to cooperate and assist, and he was greeted with a smile wherever he went. It was quite a turn around and while he was glad for it, he wasn't used to the shower of respect he now received and was halfway expecting the icy treatment to return.

What worried him most, though, was the fact that whenever he met Miss Parker in the halls, he could swear that a sparkle came to her eyes as she smiled at him. At the thought, Joseph felt a damp chill creep down his spine.

"Five minutes, sir," Anton said, just loud enough for Joseph to hear.

He nodded and turned to look over his shoulder. "Your Majesty, we will be arriving at the front entrance in five minutes."

The king thanked him for the information then finished the last of his scotch. The queen adjusted t her gloves then looked out her window, as if preparing herself for the evening to come, her face in profile to Joseph.

She was beautiful.

He gazed at her for a moment longer than he should have, unable to resist. Joseph pulled his attention away.

"Turning and slowing," Anton murmured, speaking to Bates who was driving the car following behind. With him were Shades and Hans. Still cautious after the fiasco in Ravenstein, Joseph wanted himself and two other agents in the room with the royal couple. As Joseph undid his seatbelt, the limo slid smoothly to a stop directly in front of the steps of the National Art Gallery.

Pausing, Joseph waited for Shade's 'all clear', before unlocking the car's doors and exiting. Had Shades seen any sign of trouble, Joseph would have immediately ordered Anton to drive on.

Onlookers pressed against the ropes flanking the entranceway and flashes went off as soon as he opened the limo's back door. Rupert stepped out, smiling for the photographers, and Joseph offered his hand to Queen Clarisse.

"Thank you, Joseph," she said softly, giving him a smile. He let go of her hand, and moved in front of the king, his gaze sweeping the crowd. Clarisse went to her husband's side and took his arm as Rupert exchanged pleasantries with their host's secretary, who'd greeted them.

Shades and Hans took their positions just behind the couple. After another quick glance around the area, Joseph looked back to see if they were ready. When the secretary gestured for them to enter, Joseph led the way.

Inside, it was even more crowded, reminding him of the Old City Hall in Ravenstein, and the attack. "Stay close," he ordered, scanning the crowd. At least the attendees here were all invited ones and those who were not heads of state had passed through a security inspection, he reminded himself. Still, he felt uneasy.

The hall was filled with a hundred couples, men in white tie and beautiful, wealthy women swathed in satins, silks, and jewels. But to Joseph, Clarisse outshone them all. In a simple blue silk dress that flared at the waist and fit tight through the bust and shoulders, she was stunning.

King Rupert slipped his arm around her waist, touching her only as a husband should, and leaned down, whispering in her ear. Clarisse smiled warmly, blushing. At the approach of a gentleman in military attire, Rupert gave her a gentle squeeze, then let go, and reached to shake the man's hand. Joseph sighed and looked away, to the people gathering close by to speak with the royal couple.

Although he knew it could not be otherwise, and had since the day he decided to accept the job in Genovia, the thought that he would never have her was a painful one.

He had to deal with it, and soon.

How, he did not know.

* * *

An hour and twenty minutes later, Joseph was beginning to relax. His vigilance did not waver, but as soon as Hans returned from his break, he felt confident enough in the situation to ask Bates to take his place, and then stepped through the French doors onto the second floor balcony, into the cold night air, relieved to be out of the stuffy room. The latch clicked behind him and Joseph let out his breath, a mist forming then disappearing as he did.

Wanting his new, young agent to get experience, he'd assigned Hans to the queen, Shades to the king, while he kept a general watch. For the most part, the couple had stayed together, but there were times when they each went their separate ways, chatting with acquaintances and officials. When this happened, he kept a position somewhere between the two, where he could see the crowds moving about them. It was sensible, from a security standpoint, and kept him at a distance from Clarisse. That was also a wise move.

What must he do to control his feelings for the queen? How would he live with them and be around her, day after day? Could he?

Joseph walked to the balcony's edge and leaned his forearms against its railing, gazing out over the museum's garden.

He was in love with a married woman and his feelings would never change. There was nothing for him to do except get on with his life and accept it as it was.

There was a job to perform. While not the excitement of Interpol, it did keep him busy. Too, there were problems within Genovia that he could assist in solving. Already, the changes he'd suggested and the king and Parliament had begun implementing were showing positive results. Privately, he had friends, such as Marc and Maria and their families, to share good times with. His life, simple as it was now, had to be enough.

It _would_ be, he decided. He shifted, resting his full weight on his folded arms, and felt the stone's coldness through the sleeves of his tuxedo jacket.

Below him, modern works were scattered about the paths, highlighted by spotlights. He was no more fond of modern sculpture than he was modern art and his expression changed to something of a frown as he noticed one particularly gaudy piece in the center of the garden. It was a wonder that people, in the name of "art", would pay good money for junk.

"Awful, isn't it?"

His hand automatically going under his coat jacket to where his gun was concealed, he spun around. A woman stepped from the shadow of the building, and slowly walked over to stand beside him. She smiled. Joseph let his hand fall to his side.

"I meant that sculpture, not the reception." An eyebrow rose and she tilted her head to the side. "Although, this evening has been rather a trial."

Joseph rested an arm on the balustrade and studied the woman. She was several inches shorter than he and perhaps a few years younger…or about his age. Her classic features made it difficult for him to tell. She wore makeup, but it was barely noticeable, and when she smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkled. The wrinkles were attractive, though, and made her appear as if she were about to laugh. Then, she did.

"I'm sorry. Here you are, wanting a few moments of peace and quiet and I spoil it," she said, looking at him as intently as he had her.

"How do you know that is why I am here?" he asked. A breeze ruffled the shawl around her shoulders and she pulled it more snugly about her.

"Because," she laughed, "why else would we be out here in the cold?"

Joseph smiled. "You are right, at least on that account," he conceded. "But, you did _not_ spoil anything."

"Genevieve Monts," the woman said, offering her hand. Joseph took it and bowed low, brushing his lips against her gloves.

"Joseph Coraza."

They talked for a few minutes, and Joseph found himself enjoying her company. She was a widow of several years and her husband had attended college with the reception's host. She lived in London, but traveled frequently, visiting friends and her children.

Because her husband had contributed to philanthropic causes far and wide, she was obliged to make appearances at functions throughout the continent. Since her husband's death, however, the social whirl had lost it's charms and, other except for seeing old friends, the events were becoming tedious.

Joseph liked her sense of humor and honesty and soon wished he did not have to leave and return to his duties. His twenty minutes, however, were up.

"It has been a pleasure, but I must get back," he said.

Lady Monts sighed. "I suppose I should, too, before I become frostbit." She gazed into the ballroom, where couples mingled and laughed, then suddenly turned back to face him.

"As a young girl, I was taught by my grandmother that women _never_ make the first move. But, I think that is foolish and since I did not listen to her advice then, I see no reason to begin now. Delightful company does not come along every day...or night, and opportunities should not be wasted."

Amused, Joseph said nothing, but waited.

"Mr. Coraza, after the reception, would you care to join me for a drink?"

He smiled apologetically. "Thank you, but I will be busy until late. I'm one of the staff- in security." That, Joseph knew, would put an end to her interest. Ladies of the aristocracy did not proposition the hired help.

She laughed again. "I know exactly who you are, Colonel Coraza. You are the new Head of Security for King Rupert and Queen Clarisse. You see, my brother in law tried to engage you for his company…World Command Security. He was very disappointed when you turned him down."

Surprised, Joseph did not have time to reply before she continued.

"I've become quite a night owl, I'm afraid. Fewer distractions, I suppose. It gives me a chance to read or to write without being interrupted."

This time, it was Lady Monts who waited.

Joseph considered. Turning his head slightly, he could see into the ballroom and the tall figure of Hans caught his eye. Four feet away from the young man were the king and queen, momentarily alone. Joseph saw King Rupert straighten his sash and speak to his wife, and she smiled as she reached up to adjust his tie. Rupert leaned closer, speaking directly into her ear. This time, she laughed aloud and he laughed with her, sharing in their private joke. Rupert took Clarisse's hand and tucked it under his arm, then guided her out of Joseph's sight, his agents following behind them.

_She is another man's wife, and he would never have her._

Joseph made his decision.

"I will be free about one," he said, looking back to Genevieve.

"Perfect! I have a few late calls to make to the States before midnight, but will be done by then." She pulled her wrap tighter against the chill. "I'm at the Riviere Jardin. Is that not where the king and queen are staying?"

Joseph nodded. It was no secret; a black limousine with a Genovian flag on each corner of the hood was hard to miss.

"Call from the lobby when you are free and I will meet you in the lounge." She offered her hand. "By the way, my friends call me Ginny."

"And I am Joseph." He kissed her gloved fingers and let them go. "Until then."

She nodded then slowly walked through the doors, disappearing into the crowd. After a moment, he followed, returning to his duties and to his life.

Joseph came to stand a couple of meters from the king and queen and nodded his thanks and dismissal to Bates. Before Bates left to return to where Anton waited with the cars, his men grinned broadly at each other. For the next hour and a half, Shades and Hans exchanged amused glances and smiles, puzzling their boss…until Joseph realized that the entire time he was out on the balcony, his mike had been on.


	6. Paris encounter

Worlds Apart

Chapter6

With a sigh, Charlotte Kutaway replaced the receiver and sat back in her chair. She liked her new job working for the queen. It was not in the diplomatic corps, per se, but she could already tell she would be getting a great deal of experience in that area as Her Majesty's personal aide. After being at the palace for only a week, she already knew it was going to work out well. She smiled, then jumped as someone spoke behind her.

"Problems? Or is talking on the phone wearing you out?" Shades asked, coming to lean against the side of her desk.

Charlotte straightened the papers on her desk before reaching for Her Majesty's appointment book, deliberately avoiding looking at him. "_You_, sir, have little room to criticize. I understand there is a running poker game going on in the Security Center. Surely, you have more to do with your time than play cards. Does Joseph approve?"

She'd met Mr. Coraza only once, but had been mightily impressed by his quiet authority. It felt odd to do so, but since everyone called him "Joseph" and there was not the slightest bit of disrespect in the familiarity, she did, too. He did not seem to mind, in the least.

Shades perched a hip on the corner of her desk and crossed his arms and considered her question as if it dealt with grave national issues. "Don't know. Never tried it while he's around." He leaned closer to her. "And how did you find about the game? Security activities are classified information…only those who need to know, know."

"Well, apparently the maids know everything and they like to talk," she answered brusquely. "You'd better hope Joseph doesn't come back early from his trip."

"He won't," Shades answered. "He's visiting someone he knows in France until Monday. Some special event, so he took a few days."

"From what I've heard and read, he's been busy enough since he got here- can't say he doesn't deserve a break." Charlotte took several folded papers from a file in her desk drawer. "Speaking of work, aren't you supposed to be doing something?"

"I am doing something."

"No, I mean worthwhile."

Shades grinned and continued to stare at her. "What I'm doing _is_ worthwhile."

Charlotte blushed. She grabbed the appointment book and stood. "I have work, even if _you_ don't. I need to see Her Majesty about her schedule," she said frostily.

"A change?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

He straightened his tie and followed her. "Then I'd best come, too."

* * *

"Oh, dear! I hope Prime Minister Motaz is not seriously ill." 

"No, ma'am. His office said it was more of a precaution against his overworking until he was fully recovered from the flu."

"That's good- I'll give him a call this evening," Queen Clarisse said. "With the dinner canceled, that means Friday is now clear."

"Yes, ma'am." Charlotte held out three cards. "It is at the last minute to accept, but you do have these invitations."

"It _is_ very late, but let me take a look." Clarisse glanced at them, pausing over the last card. She looked up and smiled. "The grand reopening of the Arts Theater in Paris sounds wonderful- I was regretting missing it. I know the director and I'm sure he will not mind if I accept this belatedly."

Charlotte smiled in agreement, certain that no one would object to a queen's last minute acceptance.

"Give me just a moment…" Clarisse reached for her phone.

After quickly conferring with her husband, Clarisse replaced the receiver. "It's settled. I will go to Paris while my husband takes advantage of the free evening to spend it with Philippe." Her pleased expression clouded a bit. "Perhaps he can convince Philippe to…" She trailed off, realizing her staff was present. "We must notify Henri and the Theater as soon as possible."

"I'll call at once," Charlotte offered.

"Yes, please do. Oh!" Clarisse turned to Shades, who stood off to the side. "Is this too short a notice for you to arrange for a trip to Paris? Is twenty-four hours enough?"

"Yes, ma'am. We can make the arrangements without difficulty. Will you be staying at your usual hotel, Your Majesty?" he asked.

"Yes, no other excursion, just the ballet that night. I can leave Saturday morning and be back in time to help my husband dedicate the new school," she replied, looking from Charlotte to Shades.

"Your Majesty," Shades began hesitantly, "as you know, Mr. Coraza is not here at the moment, and he left the country thinking you would not be traveling. Should I inform him of your change in schedule? He might wish to return."

"No, do not call him," Clarisse answered quickly. "It will only be overnight and there's no need. I would not like to interrupt his plans." The queen turned to her aide. "Charlotte, we have _work_ to do to get ready!"

As queen Clarisse began going through the morning's mail, Charlotte cast Shades a look that clearly said he had work, too. He wandered off to do it.

* * *

"Henri, it was a beautiful performance! Thank you for allowing me to come on such short notice." 

"It is our pleasure, Queen Clarisse!" The Arts Theater director fairly glowed with pleasure. "May I introduce you to our dancers?"

She nodded. "Of course. I would be delighted to meet them." As he instructed his assistant to summon the principle dancers, Clarisse glanced around. The reception was being held in the theater's grand entrance hall and it's vaulted ceiling, marble stairs and columns, and gilded workings gave it an Old World splendor.

As a young girl, she had attended many performances here with her grandmother, and, for a time, had entertained thoughts of studying dance. When she discovered that classes would cut severely into her equestrian lessons, she abandoned the idea. Clarisse would like to have wandered about the rooms noting the various changes that had been made and the additions to the art collection. That, however, was impossible.

Noticing Shades staring at something, Clarisse followed his gaze. In the center of the room stood a dreadful sculpture of what appeared to be a woman made of spheres and rods tossing a flock of box-shaped ducks into the air. She bit back a laugh. Just as she was about to look away, she stopped. Beyond the statue, partially hidden, a man had his back to her and there was something very familiar about his broad shoulders.

Joseph.

Clarisse stared as the woman beside him, dressed in a form fitting, deep blue gown, spoke. He turned to her and smiled then slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. The woman laid her head against his shoulder for a moment, her face tilted up toward his. Joseph kissed her forehead then smiled again. It was a smile filled with love.

"Madam?" Henri asked.

"I am sorry. I was admiring that most interesting statue." Joseph still had his arm still around the woman and Clarisse felt uncomfortable at the sight.

"It _is_ a lovely work- we were fortunate to obtain it. It is a Kea and is one of a kind."

"Thank goodness!"

"Madam?"

"Thank goodness I was able to come for your re-opening and see it." Clarisse could think fast when she needed to.

Henri flashed a grateful smile. "If you will notice, we have added other touches of modern inspiration. We thought a mix of old and new would be appropriate. For example, that exceptional piece over in the corner. It represents man's agony whilst in the midst of ecstasy…"

She murmured agreement as Henri gushed on, all the time watching Joseph while trying to appear not to.

Of course, he would have women friends. He was single and very handsome, so would be sought after. While she certainly did not engage in gossip, she nonetheless did hear, on rare occasions, news of social activities and engagements among the upper crust of Genovia. Joseph would undoubtedly rank among the more sought after bachelors. As far as she knew, he had dated no one in the time he'd been in the palace's employ.

Joseph kept his arm about the woman as they chatted with the others in their group. He was clearly at ease with her; they seemed very close.

She frowned.

"Your Majesty, may I present…"

Clarisse turned to face the group that was now before her and smiled when he introduced each of the dancers. With practiced ease, she complimented them individually, graciously accepting their thanks for attending their performance, and wished them much future success. They talked about the renovations and the upcoming season for a few minutes, then, at his nod, the group drifted away.

Once alone, Henri proudly offered to show her the theater's newest painting, a small work entitled _Sunlight in Grays._ "It is a charming work, Madam, full of life."

"Not right now, thank you." She wanted to turn around and see if Joseph was there, but that would be too obvious. Did her guards know he was here- had Shades been staring at Joseph?

"Perhaps later, then. Ah! There she is!" Henri craned his neck, looking over her shoulder. "Tonight is her debut- a charming girl, very talented. Would you mind?"

"Not at all. I would love to meet her," Clarisse replied politely.

Henri beamed. "She is just over this way."

They rounded the circular base of the bird lady, which looked no better up close, and approached a group of a half-dozen people. She saw him immediately. Joseph was facing her, but had not noticed their arrival and was listening intently to the woman- a _very_ _young_ woman, Clarisse noted. She was suddenly angry.

_What in the world was Joseph doing with a woman barely older than a child?_

There was a sudden silence as Henri introduced himself to the group, calling to the young woman to get her attention. Joseph looked up.

He stared.

* * *

"Uncle Joseph, thank you so much for coming tonight!" Julia Warren said, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with excitement. "It wouldn't have been nearly so special without you!" 

Joseph gazed at his beautiful goddaughter then reached for her, gently pulling her to him. She laid her head on his shoulder. "I would not have missed this for anything, little Julia."

"Just think…if you had never taught me to dance, I might not be here!"

"You mean, if you hadn't begged unceasingly every time I visited," he replied, giving her a quick kiss on her forehead. She laughed.

"I suppose I was rather a bother about it."

"Bother?" her uncle, Marcus Helmar snorted. "You _hounded_ the man!"

Her parents and Marcus' wife laughed, recalling the small girl trailing after Joseph wherever he went.

"Poor Joseph had to return chasing drug dealers and revolutionaries just to get some rest after visiting us," Maria Helmar Warren added.

"You were never a bother, my dear," Joseph said, giving her a gentle squeeze. "I enjoyed every moment, including that afternoon we did the Hokey-pokey for two hours straight."

She giggled and Joseph smiled at her. She and her cousins were as close as he would ever come to having children, and he'd delighted in spoiling them as much as he could. He could not love them more had they been his own.

He knew that he could not have married unless it had been for love. Still, there were times, late in the evening when he'd returned to his apartment and sat quietly on his balcony alone, watching the inky water of the White River rush by, when he wondered if he'd made the right decisions in his life. There had been women and opportunities- he could have pursued them and married. Perhaps he would have come to love.

He thought of Lauren Quinn. It had been a year since she'd left. If she had not refused, what would his life be like? Would he be happier having never met Clarisse Gerard Renaldi, the woman who held his heart, but whose heart he could never have?

A few weeks ago, he'd met Ginny Monts. At first, their encounter had been somewhat awkward for him, but then he'd relaxed and enjoyed the time they had together that night. He hoped to see her again. Since then, he'd committed himself to seeing more women and had.

His decision to turn his attention away from Queen Clarisse was for the best, he knew. She must never know of his feelings. Never.

Julia put her hand on his chest. "Uncle Joseph, I don't think I'll be able to sleep a wink tonight- please, let's go dancing."

He laughed and kissed her again. "_More_ dancing?"

"This time, I'll teach _you_ some new moves." she teased. Her eyes widened. "Or, you can help me work on my salsa dancing- it is _so_ much fun!"

"Salsa?" Joseph shook his head. "I don't think I have the energy for-"

He stopped as his friends quieted, andthen looked up…

Clarisse.

_What the hell was she doing here?_

Tensing, his eyes automatically flicked past her, searching for her security, shocked at her standing not three meters from him in the crowded hall. Shades stood to her left, two paces away, Bates just beyond, to her right. He caught Shades' eye. The younger man nodded.

"Your Majesty," Henri said grandly, "I am pleased to present Miss Julia Warren, our newest member of the ensemble. Julia, Her Majesty Queen Clarisse of Genovia."

Joseph let his right arm fall away from around Julia's waist and as soon as it was by his side, she took hold of it.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," Julia said, her voice sounding shaky. "I'd like to introduce my parents, Dr. and Mrs. Warren, my uncle and aunt, Count and Mrs. Helmar, and Mr. Joseph Coraza."

Her grip on his arm tightened. "Did I do that right?" she asked softly, just loud enough for him to hear while the others greeted the queen.

"Yes," he said, patting her arm. "Perfect." She sighed with relief.

Queen Clarisse was watching him.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," he said, giving her a small bow.

"Mr. Coraza." She did not sound pleased, he thought. Had there been problems this evening? Clarisse continued stiffly. "An unexpected turn of events, is it not?"

"Yes, it is." he replied. Was the king with her?

"Ah! Champagne!" Henri flagged a passing waiter and proceeded to hand out flutes to everyone. "To beautiful and charming ladies!" he said, lifting his glass.

The men nodded and took a sip, the wine barely touching Joseph's lips. How long had she been away from Genovia? Were her security arrangements adequate? He glanced to Clarisse's escorts again. Neither looked bothered or as if there was anything out of the ordinary with the evening…other than his sipping expensive champagne and making small talk with his employer and sovereign on an autumn Paris night.

Clarisse turned her attention to Julia and smiled. "I found your performance to be most engaging, Miss Warren. You are rather young for such an accomplishment, are you not?"

"Thank you, Ma'am. I've been studying ballet since I was four- for sixteen years." Through his jacket, Julia's nails were digging into his arm.

"I see." There was an awkward pause. Clarisse's eyebrow rose and she glanced at Joseph, her look definitely cool, and then back to Julia. "I wish you much success in the future, Miss Warren."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

His arm, he thought, was going to go numb if Julia didn't loosen her grasp.

Clarisse nodded goodnight to the group and Joseph inclined his head. Julia sighed again.

"Oh, I was so _nervous_!" Her fingers tightened even more.

"Queen Clarisse is beautiful, Joseph!" Maria said, looking at him curiously.

"Yes, she is." He pried Julia's fingers from her death grip on his arm. "You did fine, my dear," he assured her, flexing his hand and wrist. His gaze followed his queen. "If you all will excuse me for a moment, I'm going to speak with my staff."

* * *

Clarisse said her farewell to Henri rather abruptly then quickly strode away. 

_Really!_ _What was Joseph thinking?_

He was old enough to be the child's father- nearly old enough to be her grandfather! _Thank_ _goodness_ this had not occurred in Genovia or the scandal would be all over the country within a day! The awful thought occurred to her- would he be bringing her to Genovia? _Please, no!_

Behind her, she could hear Shades speaking to Joseph, apprising him of their plans and schedule and assuring him they had everything covered. She heard Joseph compliment Shade's work. Clarisse turned abruptly, ignoring Joseph and informed Shades she was ready to leave.

_Were all men so shallow? The girl was barely out of her teens!_

Joseph looked pleased. Of course, he _would_ be- what man wouldn't be elated to have a young, gorgeous woman on one arm- _clinging to him!-_ with a glass of Dom Perignon in hand and the envy of hundreds of other men?

She gave Joseph another chilly look.

_It was uncalled for behavior from a man his age!_

Before she could consider the wisdom of it, she spoke. "Miss Warren is enchanting….though terribly _young_ for this sort of thing, don't you think?"

Joseph nodded. "She's a lovely girl, but not too young. She's quite accomplished, already, Ma'am."

"Apparently! You've known her long?" Couldn't be too long, Clarisse thought- the girl was barely out of the nursery!

"Since she was born, Your Majesty," he answered mildly.

"And her parents?" she asked. She could not understand why they did not object to her seeing such an older man. And, how could he be so casual about this?

"I've been acquainted with her mother and uncle since we were in school together, Ma'am."

Clarisse could not help herself. _"Her parents do not mind?"_

Joseph looked puzzled. "No, not at all."

"And you see nothing _wrong_? Do you think this is w_i_se?" She stared. Had she and Rupert made a huge error in placing Joseph as their Head of Security? Was his judgment _that_ poor?

He shrugged and laughed. "Dancing is what she desires. I'm afraid she has her godfather wrapped around her little finger- she always has- so, whatever Julia wants, Julia-"

_"Please!"_ She did not want to hear any more. Clarisse let her breath out in a rush. This was best left for some other time, not in the middle of a crowded-

_Godfather_?

"You mean she is your _godchild_?" Her voice suddenly sounded very small, almost squeaky. She cleared her throat.

"Yes." He looked at her oddly, as if wondering just what she had been thinking. Suddenly, he dropped his gaze, embarrassed at discussing personal matters with her. "Thank you for speaking to her, Your Majesty. I know it meant a great deal to Julia," he said formally. He bowed slightly. "If there is nothing else? Good evening, Ma'am."

"Good evening," she managed, wishing the thick Persian carpeting under her feet would open up and swallow her.

It was all so obvious now- he was a friend of the girl's family; he was here to see her debut. Her face burned as she watched him walk away. How could she have made such a mistake and thought such a thing of Joseph?

Clarisse quickly made for the door, telling herself she had most certainly _not_ been jealous.


	7. Tender moments

Chapter 7

Hans stifled a yawn then scooped up another forkful of eggs. Behind him, through the glass windows overlooking the hotel's courtyard, the world was dark but for the dim reflection of light on the night's snowfall. He, along with Anton and Shades, and two couples at tables near the door, obviously tourists up for an early flight, were the only diners in the restaurant at nearly five in the morning. Bates and the new man, Pearson, were maintaining a post at the royal couple's suite.

Shades glanced at his watch and raised an eyebrow. "It's not like the boss to be late."

"He's got other things on his mind," Hans said around another mouthful of food. He added, laughing, "Can you blame him?"

"Can't say that I can," Shades murmured, recalling the beautiful woman they'd seen him talking with the evening before. "He got his Christmas present early."

"He's been getting a lot of presents, lately," Anton noted.

"I'd like to know how he does it- haven't heard him use a line on anyone yet." Hans chewed half a slice of toast thoughtfully. Anton, head now bent over his plate, simply nodded in agreement.

"He's had more offers in the past four months than I've had in the past year," Shades said. There was more than a little envy in his voice.

Hans and Anton stopped chewing and stared at him.

"All right, more than I've had in the past four years," Shades amended reluctantly then quickly continued. "But, if you've noticed, he doesn't have to do anything- the women have all come to him."

"Can't help but notice- he can't cut the mike off until after the woman's made her move, and then we've already heard it!" Hans snorted and Anton joined in. Hans looked at his fellow agent, gesturing with the sausage stuck on the end of his fork. "That reception next week- the one in London- I'd bet a twenty he gets three offers."

Anton stuck his hand out. "I bet he gets more than three."

"You're on!"

"You'd better be careful- if the boss gets wind of-"

"There he is," Hans interrupted, shoving the other half triangle of toast in his mouth.

Groaning slightly, Joseph took a seat. He rubbed his eyes with both hands then held them there for a moment, elbows resting on the table.

"Give that man a cup of coffee!" Shades said, pushing the insulated pot across the table's polished surface.

Joseph grunted as Hans put down his fork long enough to pour some for his boss, then warm his own. It wasn't until he'd taken a long swallow that he could speak.

"I'm getting too old for nights like that," he said, rubbing the side of his face with his free hand.

The other men didn't try to cover their laughter.

"Nah, maybe you're just out of practice, boss," Shades offered helpfully, then added half under his breath, "Shouldn't be for long, though, at this rate."

Joseph took another gulp of his coffee and let the remark pass- he deserved it.

He saw to it that every agent got a few hours off during a trip lasting over two days. Drinking alcohol was forbidden and an agent had to be within phone range and forty-five minute's recall, but his staff appreciated some personal time every now and then.

He rarely took any time off himself, but with when the opportunity arose during the evening, he'd taken it and claimed his free hours during the night. The woman was lovely and young, and reminded him of Lauren Quinn. Seeing other women had not dimmed his feelings for his queen, but had proved to be a diversion that helped him deal with the situation.

"Everything quiet?"

"Yeah. Their Majesties are still asleep, no problems. Wake up call's in an hour, coffee will be waiting, breakfast will be ready to deliver half an hour later, and the boys, here-" Shades jerked his head toward Anton and Hans, who were scraping their plates- "will check the cars and have them out front by zero seven-thirty."

Joseph nodded. "Good." He reached for the last roll in the basket. "Somebody remind Pearson to put out the 'do not disturb' signs before they hit the sack."

Anton snorted. "I don't think Bates is going to let him forget- not after those maids busted in yesterday morning just about time he got to sleeping good- him laying there in nothing but his birthday suit."

They all chuckled at the picture and the scathing Bates had given the new man.

"Boss, you want something to eat- something to get your energy reserves back up?" Shades asked innocently, catching the waitress' attention.

"Sounds good."

"Worked up an appetite, huh?" Hans joked, looking over to Anton. The two grinned at each other.

"Missed dinner last night," Joseph said pointedly, "and it took till after midnight to get that aircraft waiver straightened out."

"Oh, right." The grins got bigger knowing he'd not spent the rest of the night in his room. Their boss didn't seem amused and the two sobered. "We gassed up the cars last evening, by the way."

"Good." Joseph thanked the waitress as she set a fresh basket before him and reached for a whole-wheat roll. She smiled and lingered for a moment, watching him as he broke it open and smeared on the butter.

Anton punched Hans' arm. "Might as well pay up now," he whispered.

"My wallet feels lighter already," Hans replied dolefully, seeing the waitress give Joseph another hopeful look before turning away to greet a new customer. Joseph did not notice. The two men shook their heads.

"If you two are finished," Shades said, giving them a hard look, "take our friends upstairs some coffee and then go check the cars for supplies. I think we're running low on bottled water- and put a new box of tissues in the limo."

The two younger men stood. "Sure thing." They dug around in the basket, each pulling out two more rolls. "Later."

Alone, Shades relaxed in his chair. "I think they're coming along very well."

"I agree, but have to wonder how long our food budget will hold out." Joseph picked at the two rolls left and made a face. "Left only an onion and a raisin."

"Want more? I'm sure the waitress will be happy to bring another basket over," Shades offered, amused at the glances the woman was giving Joseph from across the room.

"No, I'll get something later. I need to call about our escort- I want them to run the route this morning before we leave."

"Worried?"

"It's my job to worry." Joseph drained his cup and stood. "Can you see to the check? Thanks. And make sure they have the area reserved for the cars out front cleared of snow. It came down rather heavy last night- still some falling." He lifted a hand as he walked away. "I'll see you upstairs."

Shades scraped his chair back and, giving her his most winning smile, motioned to the waitress to bring the bill. She didn't seem nearly as pleased to come over, now that his boss had left.

* * *

Queen Clarisse sighed with relief as Joseph shut her car door, the last of the out-of-country holiday functions finally over. For the next three days, she could relax at home with her family. Philippe would be arriving Christmas Eve from Rome, where he had been studying.

"Tired, my dear?"

"Very." She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the plush seat. "My feet hurt."

"Take off your shoes," Rupert said, removing his red cashmere scarf and undoing the top buttons of his overcoat.

"Oh, Rupert! I couldn't possibly-"

"Joseph," Rupert called, as his head of security took his place in the front seat.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Joseph turned in his seat.

"We'd like the partition up, please."

"Yes, sir. We will be leaving momentarily." Joseph turned away and the black, insulated panel rose quietly, giving them complete privacy.

"Now, let me see them." He reached down, pulling her feet into his lap.

"Rupert!" She sat forward to stop him as the car began to move. One by one, her shoes it the floor and Rupert began to rub her feet.

"Better, Rissa?" He smiled at her, looking at her the way he'd done when they were younger and there'd been none of the worries and responsibilities of the kingdom on his shoulders. His hair was completely gray and his handsome face was lined. His smile, though, was still as striking as before.

She fell back against the deep cushions, gazing at her husband. "Mmm, yes. Very much so."

He worked his thumbs against the sole of her right foot. "If I had not become king, I could have been a masseuse, yes?"

She laughed. "You would have made a very _fine_ masseuse." His hand slid over the arch of her foot, soothing her sore muscles. "Rupert?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm concerned about Philippe."

His hand stopped for a moment then continued to massage each toe through her hosiery. "What about?"

"You know what about," she sighed. "I'm afraid he is not going to want to take the throne."

Rupert considered. "I know he has reservations…he's mentioned he enjoys his historical work, but… Rissa, do you really think he will refuse it?"

She shook her head. "I do. He's shown no desire at all and when he and I have spoken about it, he's made it clear his interest lies in his academic pursuits and _not_ in heading a kingdom."

Rupert appeared thunderstruck. "I always thought he'd come around…never dreamed the boy would give up his rights as king. Why, if he doesn't accept the throne…"

"There is Amelia," she said quietly.

He nodded. "Yes, there is." The lines on his face deepened and to Clarisse, Rupert suddenly looked to be older than his fifty-nine years. He spoke again, but more to himself than to her. "Does a life of duty appear so unpleasant to him?"

They were quiet for a moment and the car sway slightly as they rounded a curve before picking up speed. Rupert turned his attention to her ankles.

"Has it been fun, Rissa?" Rupert asked, smiling uncertainly, his words serious.

"Fun?"

He stopped rubbing her feet and covered them with his hands. "Have you enjoyed our years together?" he asked quietly. He looked away. "I know that I have not always been the perfect husband, but I have never stopped caring for you…loving you. I cannot imagine not having you by my side, Rissa."

"It _has_ been fun, Rupert. It's been wonderful," she answered softly. "I wouldn't have missed a moment- _any_ moment of it- for the world."

He reached for her hand and kissed it. "You do not regret marrying me and becoming Genovia's queen?"

"No. Not at all." She meant it.

He kissed her hand again then carefully placed her feet on the carpeted floor. Leaning forward, Rupert pressed a button on the console and the reading lights in the roof snapped off, leaving them in near darkness. Flashes of light from the boulevard's decorations shone through the deeply tinted windows, muted colors barely touching them, as they sat silently wrapped in each other's arms.


	8. Passings

_I appreciate everyone's reviews and comments. I'm afraid things have turned serious..._

* * *

Worlds Apart 

Chapter 8

"Could the weather be any worse?" Anton grumbled. Sleet bounced on the roof with a chinking sound as Shades quickly took his place by the door behind the driver. Anton waited by the rear passenger door and tried not to shiver. "Why couldn't we stay at a hotel with a covered front?"

Shades glanced around the area, then back to Joseph, several yards away, and waited for the signal to open the doors. His response was half muffled by the fog. "Historic site- some ancestor was crowned here- or beheaded. I can't remember which."

Several feet away, Joseph pointed to a spot on the hotel's walk and bellhops scurried over, slipping on the quickly accumulating ice, to toss several carpet runners over the area. He inspected the improvised fix then quickly returned to stand by Anton.

"The hotel hasn't even taken a shovel to the walks," Joseph said, his voice betraying the irritation he felt. "Let's get them in quickly and stay close. It's slick and getting worse by the minute." He looked to Shades. "The driveway's too slushy- Her Majesty will have to exit this side."

"She'll have to _slide_," Anton said, under his breath, as Shades came around to his side of the car.

A sudden breeze whipped stinging sleet into their faces and the pellets began to fall heavier. Wetness dribbled down back of Joseph's neck.

"I'll drag her across the seat, if I have to," Joseph growled barely loud enough for the two men to hear, "but they have to get inside and _now_."

With a grin, Anton yanked the car door open- the comment only showed just how angry Joseph was at the hotel's lack of cooperation. His boss would never actually do such a thing…or would he?

Anton stepped aside as King Rupert got out and Shades moved to flank the king, umbrella open. When Rupert hesitated, waiting to assist his wife, Shades gestured for him to keep moving toward the hotel entrance. "Allow us, sir. Please follow me." Reluctantly, Rupert did.

Joseph leaned into the open doorway and asked Queen Clarisse to please exit on this side. There was a pause and more discussion, rather heated, on the subject from within the car and from his boss. Joseph straightened, his expression even darker than before, but heextended his hand to the occupant who was grudgingly creeping across the back seat. Anton popped open the oversized umbrella.

Queen Clarisse got out, no more pleased, by the look on her face, than her head of security. She straightened her coat and squared her shoulders. Without a word, Joseph took her by the arm and guided her across the makeshift red carpet. Anton hurried to follow, still grinning.

* * *

With a final glance in the mirror, Clarisse rose from dressing table. They were to have a short tour of the hotel, including the ballroom where Rupert's great-great-great grandfather was dancing merrily with the local lovely ladies when informed he was now the new king of Genovia. The new king, not wishing to be disturbed and having decadent plans for the evening, had sent the breathless and exhausted messengers away complaining that his now-deceased brother had, in the end and as always, managed to spoil his fun. 

After the tour, they were to dine with the President of the Swiss Confederation and his wife in a private dining room. They'd been invited to visit Zurich and stay at the hotel earlier, before the holidays, but their schedule had not allowed the visit until a nearly two months after the new year. Late February, she was finding out, was not the ideal time to visit Zurich.

In the sitting room, Rupert stood by the window watching as flakes of snow drifted serenely past their window.

"No more sleet?" she asked, laying down her bag and wrap on the small loveseat.

Rupert turned, halfway toward her, the pale light from outside giving his face a grayish cast. "No…seems to have stopped. Just snow for now." He rubbed a hand across his chest. "My dear, do you think we…"

His voice trailed off.

"Do I think what?" Clarisse asked, looking up.

Rupert shook his head and took a deep breath, looking once again out the window. "Nothing. It's nothing, my dear."

There was a knock at the door and when Rupert did not turn say anything, she answered. At her "come," Joseph entered.

"Your Majesty, do you need more time?" he asked, looking from her to her husband.

"No, I think we are ready." She reached for her bag and wrap. "Shall we, dear?"

Rupert did not reply.

"Rupert?" she asked.

"Rissa, I think…I'd better….not…" He slowly turned around to face her.

Joseph quickly moved toward him, speaking softly, seemingly, no one. Shades came in immediately, followed by two other agents.

Suddenly, Rupert crumpled. Joseph caught him and with Shade's help eased him to the floor. Clarisse heard a scream- a woman- shouting her husband's name, and she ran forward but someone stopped her, gently keeping her away, pushing her onto a seat.

The screaming stopped and she heard her voice, calling out to Rupert, to the men, to anyone.

Joseph knelt over Rupert, his hands on her husband's neck and Anton bent over Rupert's head. Joseph's hands slid to Rupert's chest and began to compress while the tall agent placed his mouth on her husband's. There were voices, words, but none of it made sense to her. She heard Shades call for an ambulance then order the car be brought around immediately.

It slowly sunk in- a heart attack- Rupert was dying!

The woman was shouting again. Clarisse was on her feet, trying to reach her husband. Arms held her back, this time not letting go, but holding her as she watched the two men working aggressively on her husband.

More people came into the room. She saw Shades kneel beside Joseph then switch places with him. Joseph motioned for the hotel manager to stay, the other hotel staff to leave. He gave commands to the manager, ordering the elevator be ready on the lower level for the ambulance personnel then locked open when it reached their floor and the hallway and lobby be cleared of any onlookers. The manger hurried to comply. Across the room, her husband still lay still.

The voices faded and room began to darken.

Joseph was suddenly at her side.

* * *

_Dear God!_

A dozen separate thoughts raced through his mind as Joseph shot orders at the wide-eyed manager who could not stop staring at his royal guest stretched out on the floor. Was the man even hearing what he said?

"Yes, yes….certainly," the manager said, still staring. Joseph moved to block his view.

"Have someone inform the Swiss President, but I do _not_ want anyone else coming in here- do you understand?"

The man's head bobbed up and down. He didn't move.

"Go!" Joseph ordered, giving the man a shove toward the door. He glanced behind him. Shades and Anton were still working over King Rupert. He looked around for Clarisse and found her, her face white, still holding her purse and coat, half-hidden behind Hans who'd positioned himself between her and the door, providing protection. He saw her knees start to buckle.

"Please sit, Your Majesty," Joseph said, forcing her down onto the seat then kneeling in front of her. She was in shock. "Help is coming- we will do everything we can," he assured her calmly. Sitting, her color improved a bit, but he was still worried. In the distance, he could hear the two-toned sirens and in his ear he heard Pearson say the car was out front in position. He looked to Hans. "Get her heavy coat and gloves."

Hans ran into the other room.

The sirens were louder now, outside the hotel, and a policeman appeared at the door, glanced around the room, and found Joseph. The officer slid a chair out of the way and opened the door as wide as possible before leaving to take a position by the suite's main door. Hans returned and Joseph placed the coat around her shoulders, helping her slide one arm through a sleeve then the other. Over her head, he spoke to Hans, his voice low.

"I'll accompany His Majesty along with Anton. The rest of you bring Her Majesty to the hospital. Once there, have Shades notify Prince Philippe and then find me. You and Pearson are to stay with Her Majesty and see to it she is given a private place to wait- and get her to drink something hot."

There was noise in the hallway.

"Look after her," Joseph ordered, moving back to the king, as paramedics came into the room.

* * *

Two and one quarter hours later, Joseph nodded solemnly to the doctors and looked away from the figure on the table. He laid a hand on Anton's arm. 

"Stay here," he said softly.

The younger man swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

As he stepped through the doors, Shades moved from his post off to the side and came to stand beside his boss. Joseph shook his head.

The doctor in charge of the emergency room joined them. "Where is she?" Joseph asked.

It was a moment before Shades could answer. "To the left, down the hall, last door on the right."

Silently, Joseph and the doctor went to inform the queen.

* * *

"We're ready, sir, and the tower's given us clearance." 

"Thank you." Joseph looked to the open cockpit door and gave the waiting pilot a quick nod. "Let's go."

Placing Shades in charge of their departure had freed Joseph to concentrate on looking after Queen Clarisse. Determined that she would not be disturbed needlessly or fatigued, he'd been at her side since she'd learned of her husband's death. Worried about her health, he'd encouraged her to drink and eat a small, simple breakfast. She was still weak and pale.

While she'd dozed, after returning from the hospital, Joseph and Shades had made necessary arrangements. Philippe, on holiday in Italy, would meet his mother in Genovia. Other family had been notified during the night so that they would not first hear of the king's death in the media in the morning and would be arriving during the next two days. The king's body would be flown by the Swiss military to Genovia and Pearson and Hans had remained behind to accompany it home.

As the jet began to taxi, he made his way down the aisle, double-checking the doors. His remaining men were seated up front, as was the flight attendant. To give Queen Clarisse privacy, only he would be seated in the rear with her.

He closed a window panel in the seat opposite Queen Clarisse then dimmed the lights in the cabin. Outside, it was dark with heavy, low-hanging clouds that threatened more snow. The engines whined, rising in pitch as the plane turned onto the runway and Joseph took his seat on the last row, securing his seatbelt. Across from him, two seats up, Queen Clarisse stared out her window.

The plane rumbled then lifted into the air, the vibrations quickly smoothing to stillness.

* * *

_She was a widow._

Clarisse slid her window shade closed and shut her eyes as the plane left Zurich and life as she'd known it.

_She was fifty-five years old and had been married for thirty-five years to her best friend, and now… _

…she was a widow.

Her breath caught and a tear trickled down her cheek. Weary to the bone and slightly groggy from the sedative they'd given her earlier, Clarisse rested her head against the seat and folded her arms, hugging herself. The plane swayed, rocking her gently, and the last thing she was aware of was strong hands gently tucking a soft blanket about her shoulders.


	9. Decisions

Worlds Apart

Chapter 9

Bright sunlight streamed through the windows making the small sitting room glow with warmth despite the outside chill. The southernmost areas of Genovia enjoyed mild winters, for the most part, but there were days of intense cold and cloudiness. The day, in contrast to the somber mood surrounding the state funeral, was bright, crisp, and beautiful; on a different occasion, Clarisse could not have asked for better weather.

A long line of black limousines had brought heads of states and royals from around Europe and the world to Genovia. King Gustav had delivered the eulogy; brief remarks had been made by other close associates. The cathedral was filled to capacity and the streets were a dozen deep with those who could not enter. Rupert had been greatly admired and the out-pouring of grief moved Clarisse deeply.

She and Philippe had received callers the evening before, and while the public funeral was broadcast countrywide, the interment was a private affair with only their closest family and friends present. Through it all, Clarisse had sat unmoving, eyes ahead, her hand clasped tightly in Philippe's.

There was a soft knock on the door before it opened to Joseph, bearing a tray.

"Your Majesty, I thought perhaps you would care for something to eat and drink," he said, setting it on the low table.

"Thank you, but I'm not very hungry," she answered, looking back out over her rose garden, which was bare of any signs of life.

"Your Majesty, it is afternoon and you've not eaten since this morning," he replied firmly. She heard tea being poured. "You missed a meal yesterday, and several before that."

She suddenly realized he had not left her side for a week, not since that night in Zurich. He must be as tired as she- more so. When she slept, she knew he had security matters to attend to. A maid had mentioned he was sleeping at the palace and she had awakened one night and went to the kitchen for milk, only to find him still up.

Clarisse turned to face him. "Have I thanked you, Joseph, for looking after me through all this?"

"No thanks is necessary, Ma'am," he answered quietly.

"I wish to express it, anyway. I do not know what I would have done without you."

He dropped his gaze to the floor. "I am always at your service, Your Majesty."

She crossed through shafts of sunlight and came to stand in front of him, recalling the time when they had first met in that very same room, when her roses were in full bloom. That next day, she had been pleased to hear he had accepted the position as their head of security. It had proved to be a fortunate turns of events. For Clarisse, Joseph had quickly become a rock to rely on, someone to trust without reservation.

There were changes to come, she knew. Her world had been turned upside down and she needed to cling to what she knew was solid and unchanging.

"Joseph," she began hesitantly, "will you be staying?"

He looked up. "Ma'am?"

"Now that…King Rupert is gone…will you be staying?"

His expression unreadable, he answered slowly, as if unsure. "If it is your wish."

"It is my wish."

"Then, I will be here, Your Majesty, for as long as you need me," he answered softly.

"Thank you, Joseph." Her heart lightened a little and she sat on the small loveseat and took a deep breath. "I think I _will_ have a cup of tea."

* * *

"Mother, I have never wanted this." Philippe took her hands in his. "I do not feel prepared…I do not feel I can give what the people need…"

He broke off, struggling to find the right words. How did one give up a throne?

"Philippe, it is not as if you would be without assistance. You would have Parliament, the Prime Minister and his advisors, as well as myself and Gustav and others to call upon." Clarisse tried to keep her annoyance from her words. "You've known this would be coming one day."

His shoulders slumped; Philippe sighed and came to his feet. "I know. Still…"

He picked up a glass figurine on the end table then set it down, his back to her. "You were co-regent with Father. You can continue-"

"I did not plan to continue as queen. I expected that _you_ would assume the crown!"

Philippe did not reply.

"It has been over four months since your father's death and I fear Parliament is growing impatient with my excuses for you. You have a _duty_ to your country and it is time you-"

He spun around to face her. "Duty? Isn't what _I_ want important?"

"We cannot always put ourselves, first, Philippe!" Clarisse rose, shaking with emotion. "One's duty is foremost, and in our position, we have a responsibility that _must_ be seen to. We cannot shirk our obligations!"

He looked away and was silent for a moment. "I don't know if I can do that, Mother. I know a decision must be made soon and I will give it my attention. But, for now, that is _all_ I can promise."

She wanted to say more, but knew it would be useless.

Squaring his shoulders, he faced her. "Unless you need me here, I am going to London. I agreed to teach a course this semester as a visiting lecturer. It is five months in length, so I will be finished in mid-November."

When she did not answer, he continued stiffly.

"I will, of course, be returning to attend those functions at which you feel my attendance is necessary."

She nodded. "I shall keep you informed."

He watched her, wishing he could live up to what she expected of him. "Mother, I…"

"I understand, Philippe." She didn't, but to belabor the point would do the situation no good.

He quickly crossed the room and kissed the top of her head. She took his hand and smiled, then released it. Without another word, he left.

* * *

"Queen Clarisse, please forgive my bluntness. I know that King Rupert, God rest his soul, has been gone barely six months and your family is still in mourning, but we must talk about Prince Philippe and the future of the Genovian throne."

She nodded, willing herself to stay calm. "Yes, of course, Sebastian. Please, speak freely."

They were sitting alone in her office with Joseph outside the door to make certain no one disturbed them.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Prime Minister Motaz hesitated then began again, choosing his words carefully. "We realize that Prince Philippe has been….reluctant to assume the throne, however I must tell you that several members in Parliament are not pleased with the delay. Is the situation still the same?"

"I have spoken with my son and, at the present, there is no change in his opinion." There was no need to cover up for him now, she knew.

"If Prince Philippe refuses, and without another Renaldi, the throne will pass to the Von Troken family- the Baron being the next in line." His large frame shuddered and his voice dropped. "There are those of us, Your Majesty, who do _not_ wish to see this occur."

He took a long swallow of tea to fortify himself. "We have managed, by making several concessions on other matters, to give Philippe three more months- until the end of November- to decide. After that, there is _nothing_ more we can do. The heir to the throne _must_ be announced."

In truth, it was more than she had hoped for.

"Thank you, Sebastian. I understand."

"Please know that you have the _full_ support of myself and Parliament and may continue as our sovereign, as long as you so desire," he continued earnestly. "Indeed, we would rather see you rule than-"

He broke off, reddening. Had he been about to say 'Philippe'? Had her son already lost the trust of his country's government leaders?

"I appreciate your support, Prime Minister Motaz. Please assure the members of Parliament that I have no intention of stepping down until a _suitable_ solution is found."

The prime minister appeared relieved to hear this.

"You are aware, are you not, that my granddaughter, Amelia, would be the next in line- should her father choose not to accept the throne?" Clarisse added, pouring more tea into her cup.

Motaz looked faintly embarrassed. "Well, we were not sure…seeing as how the young lady's parentage…that is, we did not know if…"

"She is Philippe's legitimate heir," Clarisse continued, "and as such, she cannot be discounted from the line of succession."

"Ah, yes, well…certainly." Motaz drained his cup. "That would certainly solve the problem of the Von Trokens." He brightened considerably. "An admirable solution! Tell me, is Princess Amelia excited about one day assuming her place in Genovia's history?"

Clarisse took a deep breath. "Well, actually, my granddaughter knows nothing of it."

* * *

With a thud, Prince Philippe closed the thick tome and leaned back in his chair. He had the last of his packing still to do that evening and he wanted to check with his bodyguard, Bates, about their trip. In times past, he was able to travel unaccompanied. However, since Joseph Coraza took over as the head of security, he now had to have a companion, one of the guards, with him at all times.

Rotating each month, he'd gotten to know most of them, and, in general, they were not a problem. Last month, however, one man, Pearson, had walked into a rather awkward situation; his current guard, Bates, however, knew what a closed door meant. The man, with a family at home, was pleased to be returning to Genovia. Philippe was not as eager.

He was expected in Genovia in three days for the annual Fall Festivities, an old traditional holiday when the royal family visited local farms to compliment the owners on their good showing and harvest during the year. The last time he had participated he'd ended up having to gush over a very fat sow while it snuffled about his feet, chewing on his shoelaces.

More importantly, though, upon his return he had to give his mother and Parliament an answer.

What if he refused the throne? His mother could continue as queen. She was loved by all- no one would object. She'd already shown she was capable of the position. But, what of the future, when she was unable to rule…or joined his father? If he did not assume the throne, it would fall to Amelia.

He rubbed his eyes then stared at the picture of the young girl on his desk.

Amelia.

Could he leave such a huge responsibility to her when she was even more unprepared than he? Was it fair to suddenly spring the news on her that not only was she was a princess, but she was the next in line to the throne of Genovia? Could he leave _his_ responsibilities and duty to her?

No. He could not.

With a heavy, but resolute heart, he picked up the phone. A minute later, she was on the line.

"Mother, I've come to a decision...I _will_." He closed his eyes, listening. "I'm glad you're pleased. Yes, of course, you may tell the Prime Minister. Yes, I will be there- I am driving home so I will see you in three days." He could not help but smile at the relief and joy he heard in his mother's voice. "I love you, too. Good bye, Mother."

He sat for a long time, the dead phone in his hand. Slowly, he replaced it. Crating his books was going to have to wait, Philippe decided. Instead, he would take his journal and sit for while at the estate's small pond. There was a letter he needed to write to his daughter.


	10. Another heartache

Worlds Apart

Chapter 10

Joseph flipped off the lights in his office and went to sit on the edge of his single bed. With a grunt of effort, he tossed his shoes to the side and laid his phone, weapon, and wallet on the table. It was just after two in the morning and all he wanted to do was sleep. He had an early morning wake-up and had chosen to stay at the palace rather than go home to his apartment, something he seemed to be doing more and more often.

Not bothering to pull down the covers or undress, he lay down, silently blessing Miss Parker for her foresight. By far, it was more comfortable than the bales of toilet paper he'd once slept on in the security center.

Bates had called earlier to say they were behind schedule and Prince Philippe was insisting on driving. Joseph rubbed a hand across his eyes. Once it was announced that Philippe would be assuming the crown, he was going to insist the man stick to the backseat. They could not adequately do their job otherwise.

While he was not favorably impressed with the prince, he was glad Philippe was finally accepting his responsibilities; Queen Clarisse had been under a great number of demands during the past months, and with Philippe becoming king, Clarisse would be free of the pressures of ruling a nation. Intelligence and caring combined with common sense and wisdom…Clarisse was an excellent sovereign. Still, he could see the strain she was under and he looked forward to the day when she would be free of it.

Joseph had been truly saddened by the passing of King Rupert. The king had been a fair man workingtirelessly to help his subjects and Joseph knew that Clarisse had cared deeply for her husband. Nevertheless, Joseph could not help but be aware that Clarisse was now single…and he was still her employee.

Other items of concern buzzed through his head- the disagreements over plans for the militia's reorganization he was trying to sort out, the false alarm in the kitchen that'd brought half the staff running to see where the fire was when they should have been running outside to safety, and even the storm brewing over the mountains.

Yesterday, he'd heard from his banker in London- Cassie, now in her mid-twenties and Luci, fresh out of college, had applied to the bank for a loan to start up a design business. Unknown to the girls, he'd guaranteed the modest loan and it had been finalized that morning. They were showing good sense- starting small and with a definite plan. In other circumstances, he would have had his friend Micha take them in hand. Since her marriage many years ago, she had, of course, ended her modeling career, but she remained close to several designers and could be of great help. The risk of involving her, however, was too great.

Although he would dearly love to meet his sisters and aunt, he knew he could not, even though Morely Addington had left the girls alone as best as Joseph could tell. He'd heard rumors that the duke was in ill health, a consequence of his heavy drinking. Joseph felt nothing for his father. As long as Addington did not interfere with Cassie and Luci, Joseph would keep his promise and stay out of his father's life and away from his family. At the moment, there was no problem and Joseph continued to ignore the facts of his parentage.

Worrying never kept troubles from occurring, he told himself. Joseph put aside his concerns, clearing his mind, and within five minutes had dropped off as only those who'd had to catch sleep at odd times and places could.

An hour or so later, there was a noise at his door and Joseph roused to half wakefulness. It was Anton getting something from the supply room across the hall, he thought. He rolled over.

There was knock and a muffled, "Sir?"

His door opened and light spilled in from the hall. Anton stepped further in his room. "Sir? A lieutenant from the police department is here- says he needs to speak with you immediately."

"All right," Joseph replied tiredly, sitting up and resting his head in his hands. He reached for his shoes. "What's going on?"

"Don't know- must be something important, though. The lieutenant's pretty nervous."

Now wide-awake, Joseph snapped on the bedside lamp and shoved his wallet and personal items in his pocket, clipped his phone to his belt, then picked up his gun and slipped it into his belt holster. "Let's go see."

In the main room, the lieutenant drew him aside and Joseph closed his eyes as he listened.

_Hadn't Clarisse suffered enough without this, too? _

His men had overheard and stood by silently. He turned to them.

"Find the senior-most female staff member and ask her to meet me outside the queen's rooms along with Cates, and have a tray of tea sent up," he said. Pearson nodded and hurried away. He turned to Anton. "Call in all the heads of departments immediately, as well as Her Majesty's staff." The younger man reached for a phone and Joseph looked back to the lieutenant. "Can you send cars for the Prime Minister and Her Majesty's physician?"

"Yes, sir. I'll see to it at once."

"Thank you."

The police officer hesitated. "Mr. Coraza, your man… Would you want one of us to…?"

Joseph sighed. Bates- one of their own and a father of two. "No, one of us will take care of that."

The lieutenant nodded as he walked to the door. "We'll keep this from the press for at least a couple more hours- longer, if we can. Don't hesitate to call on us."

"Thank you, lieutenant." Joseph gathered his thoughts, making sure he had ordered everything that needed to be seen to immediately. Deciding there was nothing more at the moment, other than informing the queen, he headed for the door leading upstairs."Anton, I'm going to see Her Majesty. Please handle any issues that might arise and pass the word that should there be inquiries, no comment is to be made by _anyone_ at present. And, Shades will be delayed- I'm sending him to Bate's home."

"Yes, sir." Anton swiped an arm across his eyes as he looked away. It was a moment before he could resume dialing.

On the way to the royal chamber, Joseph called Shades, broke the news, and issued more instructions for assistance to Bates' family. Somehow, he would find a way to see Bate's wife before the evening. By the time he reached Queen Clarisse's apartment, the butler and his wife were waiting in the hall with Pearson, a small tray of tea in the butler's hands.

"You wished to see us, sir?" Cates asked worriedly. They were dressed, but hastily so.

"Yes, I'm afraid I need your help. Mrs. Cates, I want you to wake Her Majesty. It is urgent I speak with her...there is upsetting news."

Gerta's eyes filled with tears, but to Joseph's relief she asked no questions.

"Cates, please join us. Once I have spoken with Her Majesty, please see to the recall of staff- Anton has already begun. When they've arrived, have them assemble downstairs." Cates nodded and slipped his arm around his wife. Joseph moved to open the door, then stopped and turned to Pearson. "See that no one disturbs us. Dr. Engle will be arriving as will Prime Minister Motaz, so please let me know as soon as they are here. Keep in touch with Anton and the front desk."

Joseph opened the door to the royal suite, turned on several lamps, and turned off the phone as Gerta went to wake the queen. Cates placed the tray on the table then took an unobtrusive position by the door.He was joined by his wife after a few minutes.

Clarisse emerged from her bedroom in a robe and slippers and Joseph quickly went to her.

"Joseph? What is it?" she asked, pulling her robe tighter about her.

"Please, have a seat, Your Majesty," he said taking her by the arm and guiding her to the sofa. She watched his face as Joseph sat next to her and took her hands in his. Her eyes widened. _She knew_. He spoke gently. "There was an accident late yesterday evening involving Prince Philippe. I am very sorry, but he did not survive."

Clarisse said not a word, but closed her eyes. When she opened them, all the joy and hope that had slowly returned over the past few months were gone.

"Joseph, I cannot bear this," she whispered, shaking her head. "I can't. _Not this, too!_"

"You are the strongest woman I know," he replied.

_"No! No, this is more than I can take!"_

She began to weep and she reached for him. Joseph gathered her into his arms, and with her head on his shoulder he held her, letting her cry.

"You are not alone, my queen. You are never alone."

Across the room, the door closed with a soft click, leaving them by themselves. For the next thirty minutes there was only the sound of her sobs and Joseph's gentle words.


	11. Life goes on

_A short chapter, but a nice moment beteween Clarisse and Joseph._

* * *

Worlds Apart

Chapter 11

Clarisse gently placed the small bouquet of flowers at the base of the large monument and took a step back. It had been just over a year since Rupert's death- a year of changes she could have never foreseen. A chill breeze swept across the hill and the rust and gold silk scarf, her only concession to color in her dress, fluttered at her throat.

Several yards away lay the tomb of her only son. Not as large or grand as that of his father's, Philippe's was of lighter colored material and lacked the spire with a crown at the top. Clarisse slowly crossed to stand before it. With the coming of spring, there would be grass sprouting to green the area; for now, it was surrounded by bare earth.

Hesitantly, she touched the cold marble. Only three months gone, Philippe's death was still a painful scar on her heart. Had it not been for her subjects, the people of Genovia who depended on her, she might well have given up. Instead, Clarisse had become stronger, grieving in private and serving her people with renewed resolve. They needed her and she, in turn, needed them.

She knelt, laying the second bunch of hothouse flowers underneath the plaque bearing his name. She was leaving that morning for San Francisco to see Philippe's daughter, her granddaughter. It was time Amelia knew.

Drawing a deep breath, she moved away. Two miles in the distance, the Mediterranean Sea shimmered in the early morning light. Three months ago she had not believed that the sun would actually rise the next day…but it had and she had come to rely on each sunrise as a reminder that life went on.

Like the constancy of every new dawn, she had also come to rely on Joseph's strength. He had watched over her with a gentleness and compassion she had not expected. Even now, without turning around, she knew he was there and that she would never come to harm when he was near.

On Christmas Eve, a subdued affair in light of Philippe's death, he'd found her sitting in the darkness, staring at the traditional family tree the palace servants had erected, holding a small decoration that Philippe had made as a child. Joseph had given her his handkerchief and waited, ensuring that no one intruded on her grief, allowing her time to mourn. Without a word, he'd escorted her to her apartment through the hallway cleared of staff, and had lingered in her sitting room until he was sure she slept before retiring to his room downstairs.

The breeze stirred the bare branches of the pear trees surrounding the royal cemetery and she pulled the top of her wool coat closed. Soon, the limbs would be covered in white blossoms; later, there would be fruit and another harvest would commence.

Life went on.

Clarisse said her goodbyes and turned away.

"I am ready, Joseph," she said. He stepped from the shadows.

"If you wish more time, Your Majesty, I will notify the airport," he offered, coming to her side. "Leaving later in the daywould not be a problem, at all."

"No, there is work to be done and I must be about my it," she replied walking purposefully toward the car.

Joseph said nothing. In the weeks following Philippe's death, she had turned her grief toward her duties, immersing herself in affairs of the country and had kept up a schedule that filled every moment of her day with work. He had been concerned she would exhaust herself to the point of collapsing and had urged her secretary to ease Clarisse's schedule as much as possible.

"It will be wonderful to see Amelia and to spend time with her," Clarisse said, a smile touching her lips. "This trip will be good for me."

"How do you think the princess will take the news?" he asked, clasping his hand behind his back as he walked beside her.

"How any young woman would when she found out she is royalty- she'll be _thrilled_."

Again, Joseph was silent. The queen stopped and looked at him, her hands folded at her waist.

"You think she may not?" She had come to value his opinion and knew he would always be truthful. He would even disagree with her, which was something many were hesitant to do.

"I wonder if Princess Amelia might find it…difficult to come to terms with a new life," he answered slowly. "It will be quite a change for her, Your Majesty."

"Yes, but she will be a _princess_, Joseph! She will have advantages most young women never _dream_ of!"

"Perhaps." She was walking again, more slowly than before, and he followed.

"But…?" Clarisse prompted.

Joseph chose his words carefully. "Dreaming of the life a princess leads and actually living it are two very different things."

This time it was Queen Clarisse who was silent. They reached the car and stood close, facing each other.

"Do you think she might actually refuse?" Clarisse asked, watching him intently.

"It _is_ a possibility just as is her accepting. Does the princess have _any_ idea of her heritage?"

Clarisse shook her head. "No, none at all. We agreed to keep it from her to allow her a normal childhood. Philippe was going to tell her when she became of age, but, of course, now…"

A look of concern and doubt crossed her face. It was an expression she rarely permitted anyone to see. Since planning the trip to see her granddaughter, color had returned to her cheeks and he'd seen new life in her. While he agreed the trip would be good for Clarisse, he was concerned; Joseph hoped she was not going to be disappointed.

"Your Majesty, you can only be truthful. Beyond that…"

"It will be her choice," she finished flatly.

"Yes, it will be her choice."

"And…if she refuses?" There was fear in her voice. Was Clarisse worried about Amelia's acceptance of her after such a long absence?

"She will _still_ be your granddaughter," he answered firmly. "Family _cannot_ be discarded." He brushed aside the thought that his father had done exactly that to him.

"Yes, of course, you are right," she said, the insecurity gone. She smiled and spoke briskly. "We should be on our way."

Acknowledging her order, Joseph dipped his head and helped her into the car. Just as he was about to start the motor, she spoke.

"Joseph?"

His hand stilled. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"I…I appreciate your candor and your help. I think I would be quite lost without you."

It was a moment before he could reply. "I am always at your service, my queen."

They rode in silence to the airport.


	12. San Francisco

Worlds Apart

Chapter 12

Clarisse glanced up from her correspondence and smiled as Joseph again patiently helped Amelia through the dance steps with a practiced hand. Getting away from Genovia and seeing her granddaughter was just what she had needed. Amelia was a sweet girl, even if a diamond in the rough, and with all her heart Clarisse hoped her granddaughter would accept her rightful place in Genovia's history.

But, Joseph had been right- Amelia's reaction was not what Clarisse expected. She realized it was a shock for the child, and perhaps keeping the knowledge from Amelia had not been the best decision, but it did not change the fact that the girl was a princess, the legal heir to the Genovian throne, and had the whole world before her- literally.

Clarisse dreamed of taking her to Europe, of showing her the museums and wonders surrounding two thousand years of history. There was the ballet and opera, gardens and cathedrals…art and culture that was equaled nowhere else on earth! She would have Amelia dressed by the leading designers as befitted a princess and future queen. Her granddaughter would see where composers created music that inspired tears and joy, artists created works that set man's passions in visual form. They could visit castles across Europe that had housed royalty in unimaginable splendor, including ancestors of the House of Renaldi. All this and more, if Amelia would allow it.

Perhaps the girl only needed more time, as Joseph said. Perhaps by the end of the month's visit, Amelia would be pleased to accept her title and birthright. If she did not… Clarisse refused to think about it.

She caught her breath as the girl tripped, but Joseph was there, his strong arm catching Amelia as he offered encouraging words to try again. Amelia was getting on well with Joseph and Clarisse was glad. Having him looking after her granddaughter set her mind at ease.

She let her gaze follow him, taking in the way his shoulders moved under the black material of his shirt, the subtle movements of his hips. He was an excellent teacher. She hadn't known that he was a superb dancer, but when Charlotte mentioned it to her as they were planning Amelia's lessons she wasn't surprised. How had Charlotte found out? Had the young woman learned of it first hand? Was Joseph dating? If so, when would he have the time?

He was at the palace from the early hours of the morning until late in the evening nearly every day. If not, he was seeing to problems elsewhere. She knew he had put long hours into reorganizing Genovia's civil affairs, particularly in the areas of disaster response and safety. The airport commission had implemented his suggestions to improve security and General of the Militia Roldolfo Bonetti, after endless stalling and objecting, had agreed to make several changes.

Did he have a life outside of his work? What did he enjoy doing in his few off hours? She tried to imagine what hobbies could interest a man like Joseph Coraza. A sport or activity outdoors? Did he enjoy riding? That was always pleasant. Clarisse considered. Perhaps she would take up her interest in horses, again. What about reading- yes, that most certainly had to be one of his diversions. He was knowledgeable in so many subjects he had to be widely read. His advice was always sound.

Joseph's help had been invaluable to her, particularly since Rupert's death and confiding in him came naturally. On two occasions, she had asked him to accompany her into a closed session with Parliament, claiming it a security precaution when members questioned his presence, so that she could afterwards ask his opinion on the topics discuss. His answers were cautious, but had opened her eyes to other aspects of the issues. Without a doubt, he was a trusted employee….and friend.

The girl spun slowly, ending in Joseph's embrace- safely- and Amelia's smile lit up the room. Declaring lessons through for the day, Clarisse put away her papers and watched as her granddaughter ran through the house to freedom, backpack bouncing wildly, narrowly missing the jade statue that had been a gift from the people of China.

She reached to press the power button on the stereo, but a black-clad arm stopped her, surprising her, and the music began, a sensuous number that called to mind lovers deep in the shadows of moonlit gardens.

"You've been wearing black too long."

She smiled and he took her hand, gently pulling her away from the desk. For a moment, she considered resisting, citing work or simply the inappropriateness of the situation. But, they were alone and she knew Joseph meant nothing by the offer to dance other than a pleasant distraction from work; she was the queen and he was…he was her bodyguard.

Their bodies gently swayed as one and Clarisse let him guide her, helping her when she faltered, commanding her as they traced the intimate dance steps. Obligated to at every ball, she danced often. It was, however, _never_ like this. As the music faded, Joseph brought her hand to his lips, kissed it, and, without a word, left.

Slowly, Clarisse walked back to the table to retrieve her work, thinking of his hand on her waist, the press of his body to hers. She could almost wish…

Clarisse drew a deep breath. It meant _nothing_, she reminded herself. Simply a diverting moment as acquaintances…nothing more. It could _not_ be any more.

* * *

Frowning, Joseph glanced at his rear view mirror, again checking on the princess. There had only been a few tears, but Amelia had kept her eyes cast downward throughout the whole trip to her school and he was worried. There had been too many changes too quickly for Amelia and he had a great deal of compassion for the girl's situation. Suddenly thrust into a role she had not at all been prepared for, she was faced with a choice that would greatly impact her life and that of many others. What was she to base her decision on? Should she be expected to give an answer in only thirty days time?

The light changed and Joseph watched, waiting for traffic to pass before he made his turn. Clarisse had brought in Paolo, a simpering fool he did not trust. He'd suggested calling in another stylist, perhaps someone recommended by the wife of a diplomat residing in the city, but Clarisse had insisted. She had, however, agreed to his suggestion of confidentiality statements for Paolo and his assistants- not that Joseph believed they would honor them.

"Princess lessons," new clothing, designer purse, pumps, cosmetics…in the end, Clarisse had obtained what she sought, and Amelia was different and beautiful now. In his opinion, Amelia had been pretty before and had simply needed time to blossom. Did Amelia like the changes? Did she even _want_ to change?

He slowed the limousine to a stop beside a line of parked cars a block away from Amelia's school then waited near the rear passenger door as the princess got out, knowing she did not like for him to help with the door. Although he was not concerned at the moment for her safety, there would come a time when she would have to understand that the agent's opening the door for her was a part of their security routine.

"Was my rear view mirror fogging up or was it getting a bit damp in the back seat?" he asked, looking away, not wanting to embarrass her. Amelia half mumbled a reply. He stole a glance at her. "Remember this- no one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

"Eleanor Roosevelt."

"Yes, another remarkable lady like yourself."

"I'll be fine, Joe, really." The princess hardly looked at him before dropping her gaze again.

He nodded in agreement, though not convinced she would be. "In that case, I will go pick up the queen and will return for you at three o'clock." For a moment, he watched her walk away, her shoulders bowed. He hoped Clarisse was not making a mistake.

* * *

_"She did WHAT?"_

The columned room echoing with his shout, Joseph stared at Hans. Behind the desk, Anton ran his hand across his face and thanked his Father above that he was not the one who had to tell the boss that Queen Clarisse had spent the day joy-riding with Amelia until it ended in a wreck.

Standing at attention and too scared to move, Hans took a deep breath, working up the courage to continue. "Princess Amelia took her on a tour of the city in her car and-"

Hands on his hips, Joseph prowled small area off the entranceway of the Genovian consulate. "_Amelia_ drove the queen around San Francisco?"

"Yes, but after the accident, they rode in-"

_"Accident?"_ He abruptly stopped pacing. _"Are they alright?"_

"Yeah, they're fine," Hans hurriedly assured him. "See, it seems that the brakes failed while trying to get up a hill and it rolled back and hit a streetcar-"

Hans took a step back as Joseph swore more fluently and fervently than he or Anton ever imagined their normally cool and controlled boss capable. He'd never before seen Joseph as angry as this…and he hoped to never again. Behind the desk, Anton whistled under his breath, impressed. He wondered if he should write down a few choice phrases for use later on. One was very unusual and he wondered where Coraza had picked it up. Best not to ask right now, he decided.

"But, Queen Clarisse knighted the policeman and the trolley driver, so-"

"She _knighted_ them?"

Hans threw a quick glance at Anton hoping for some help, but got none. "Yes, sir, using the emergency brake handle since no one had a sword. So, the police aren't going to press charges against the princess for driving without a license or insurance-"

Joseph turned away with a groan, but Hans pressed on.

"-and Her Majesty invited them to the ball-"

"_The ball_? She invited _strangers_ off the street to _the ball_?" He was staring at Hans again.

"-and everyone is happy." Hans gave a nervous laugh. "All's well that ends…Well, at least they are home and unhurt." He sobered. Mr. Coraza didn't seem to have much of a sense of humor at present.

For a full minute, Joseph paced back and forth across the room, looking at the floor. He came to stand where he could see both his agents. "_Where_," he asked slowly, "were her _guards_?"

Guilt over not helping Hans earlier got to him and Anton gathered his courage. "Sir, Her Majesty said she was going to spend the day with Princess Amelia," he explained, quickly pausing for a deep breath, "so we took her to the princess' home and then…"

Joseph crossed his arms and waited for him to continue.

"…we left."

"I see," he answered softly. Hans and Anton exchanged worried grimaces. They were in for it now.

* * *

"Your Majesty, you cannot go out on your own," Joseph said, keeping his voice level. For several minutes he had been trying to impress upon the queen the risks involved in what she had done, but Clarisse seemed oblivious to it. "You cannot go out without a guard or allow the princess to drive you-"

"Oh, Joseph!" Clarisse waved a hand dismissively and went to sit behind her desk. "Mia and I needed some time together and she merely wanted to show me her hometown." She slipped her glasses on and reached for the diplomatic pouch. "Despite the one, small mishap, it was all _perfectly_ wonderful."

And, it had been a glorious adventure for Clarisse. The minor accident did not put even a dent in her enjoyment of it at all. Clarisse felt that she and Amelia had grown closer and it had been a wise choice to skip the day's lessons. For the first time in ages, she'd had _fun_.

"You _must_ have someone with you." Out in the city with only a teenage girl who was driving a broken down car… Joseph winced at the thought. Clarisse was his responsibility and even if he was not physically at her side, it did not matter- her well-being rested in his hands twenty-four hours a day. Beyond the professional accountability was his own personal concern. The thought of losing her frightened him beyond anything else he could imagine.

Clarisse picked up a folder of import agreements, not looking at him. Her words carried a touch of impatience. "Joseph, you are excellent at your work, however I assure you that-"

"You _cannot_ go out on your own!" he repeated, coming to stand before her. She looked up, surprised at being interrupted. No one interrupted the queen.

She pressed her lips together as she listened then spoke, her words more sharp than she meant. "You have made your opinion known- and it is noted- however, I was _completely_ safe with-"

_"No!"_ Joseph shouted, his hands slamming down on the stack of letters she had yet to read. Several skittered across the desk and fell to the floor as he leaned forward. "You _will_ _not_ go out _alone_! You could have been injured or killed and if I am to continue as your Head of Security, _you must listen to me!_"

Her face paled in shock and he stepped back, appalled at what he'd done. Joseph took a deep breath, immediately wishing he could jerk back his words.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty. That was uncalled for and I apologize," he said quietly, too embarrassed by his loss of control to look at her. "Please forgive my behavior- it will not happen again."

He stood, waiting. She had every right to dismiss him for such disrespectful conduct, or, at the very least, reprimand him severely. He steeled himself as she came to stand beside him and looked up, ready to face whatever she said. Every word of her anger and displeasure was deserved.

"I'm…I'm not sure how to say this, Joseph, but you are…you are quite correct." Still pale, her voice was low and hesitant. "Going off without notifying you or your staff was totally out of line." He made to protest and she raised a hand, stopping him. "Let me finish, please. It was a foolhardy thing to do and you have every right to insist I follow your advice."

"I don't know why I…" She looked down at her hands clasped tightly together. "You know, for over fifty years I have spent every waking moment being what others expect me to be…always doing the right thing, always careful. But, today I…I rode in a convertible and ate a corn dog, and threw aside all my responsibilities for just a little while and it was..." She sighed. "Well, as I said, it was a foolish thing to do and I am sorry."

When he did not answer, Clarisse smiled sadly at him and continued quietly. "I depend on you, Joseph, more than I can say. Do not leave…_please_. I _will_ listen to you."

His anger gone, Joseph saw the unshed tears and the wall of correctness and duty reforming around Clarisse. The joy he'd seen earlier in her eyes had disappeared.

"I hardly know Amelia and she's all I have left now, Joseph. If I lose her…"

Joseph took her hand and felt her fingers tighten around his. They were cold. At that moment, more than anything else, Joseph wanted to take her in his arms and protect her from any further heartache. Instead, he gave her his handkerchief and patted her hand. "You won't lose her, Your Majesty. She is family."

"I _do_ hope you're right." She wiped her eyes and made no effort to pull her hand away. Neither spoke and the silence lengthened until it become awkward. He let her hand go.

"So…you liked the corn dog?" he asked, forcing his words to be light. She half shrugged and smiled as a last tear slipped down her cheek. "Then, my queen, we shall simply have to get you out more often to sample new cuisine."

"Oh, Joseph," Clarisse said, laughing and sniffling at the same time. She took his arm and squeezed it. "You are so good to me."

Joseph smiled and led her toward the French doors and the garden beyond. "Tell me, Your Majesty- have you ever tried tacos?"

* * *

Under the ballroom's glittering chandelier, the room buzzed with the voices of dozens of guests waiting for the double doors to open. They would shortly, he knew. A minute earlier, he'd left Clarisse and the princess and entered the ballroom by a side door to take his position just inside the entranceway, to the left. The vantage point placed him close to the queen as she entered then provided an unobstructed view of her and the room as she moved toward to her guests.

Across the room, Darrell, a new guard who was on his first trip abroad with them, held his post near the musician's stand. Hans and Mel, a guard trainee who was serving as a driver on this trip, were positioned out front. Anton, on the other side of the double doors, would move about the perimeter of the room, keeping an eye on Princess Mia, and free Joseph to cover the queen.

Earlier, he'd almost thought the evening lost. The idea had never occurred to him that the princess would try to run away. When he realized she was, he only knew that he had to find her, and that he could not let Clarisse down. He doubted if any princess had ever accepted a royal tiara dressed in sodden jeans and sweatshirt.

He was very proud of Mia. His faith in her had never wavered and he was certain her confidence would grow and she would one day become as fine a ruler as her grandmother. He only hoped that she was allowed to be herself and not forced into what others expected.

The doors opened and the voices hushed as the queen and princess was announced. Joseph bowed then turned to watch them move to the center of the room. He knew of everyone in attendance; it was a small guest list. Prime Minister Motaz stepped up to the queen, doing the honor of the first dance in the late king's stead. Joseph's brow creased as he watched the princess glance around as if wondering what to do then smoothed as she held her hand out for her friend Michael.

The joy of young love, Joseph thought, as Michael hesitantly took Mia in his arms and the floor became crowded with couples.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Would that he could do the same and simply reach for Clarisse's hand. The dance after Mia's lesson that day had been wonderful- a brief, golden moment in his memory- but knew it could be only that. He was Clarisse's employee…a man born of ill parentage with no chance of becoming anything more than a commoner…and she was a queen.

His words to Mia suddenly came back to him- _"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."_

The quotation echoing in his mind, he watched as Motaz swung her around sedately. Joseph followed the pair, his attention on no one else but his queen …

_"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."_

…and then stepped forward to place a hand on the prime minister's shoulder.

"May I?"

Sebastian Motaz smiled approvingly and bowed, offering him Clarisse's hand. He took it gently and placed his hand on her waist. They moved slowly together and if anyone gave a second glance to the queen dancing with her guard, neither of them noticed or cared. It was as close to heaven as Joseph had ever been. Clarisse smiled and he could not help but wonder if it were possible she felt anything for him, hoping against all odds that she did. As the waltz was coming to an end, he saw the princess slip out the door with her beau, and all too soon the music stopped.

He stepped back and bowed, letting go her hand just as a dignitary approached, giving Joseph a disdainful look, and asked her to dance. Joseph retreated to the side, in the shadows, to watch over his queen. He could not press Clarisse, but in time he hoped she would come to realize that he cared for her and she would one day return his feelings.

Until that day came, no matter how long it took, he would simply have to be patient.


	13. Christmas Gala

Worlds Apart

Chapter 13

King Gustav of Cerneland smiled broadly as the beautiful young woman in his arms batted her eyelashes and pressed closer. He chuckled as he waltzed her capably about the ballroom of the Vienna State Opera House. At seventy years of age he was still young enough to appreciate her efforts, but too old to do anything about it. Well, certainly not too old, he reminded himself, but just not interested…at the moment.

Broad-shouldered with a full beard and a regal mane of white snow-hair that touched his collar, Gustav was a jovial man who'd enjoyed a rewarding life in service to the people of his small kingdom that bordered Switzerland and Genovia. Most European royals were connected to each other by way of blood or marriage, and Gustav was no exception. Until recently, his nearest kin also wearing the robes of state was his second cousin Rupert. He had missed Rupert greatly during the past years. They'd shared interests in hunting and, in their younger days, polo. Gustav had come to the throne of Cerneland three years before Rupert's father had died and they had stayed close.

Rupert had made a fine king, even if he couldn't swing a mallet worth a franc. And like himself, Rupert had made an excellent match in his marriage. Clarisse Gerard was not only beautiful, but intelligent and had an inner strength to rival any man on the continent. That she was carrying on as sovereign of Genovia after the death of her husband and son was testament to the fact. Gustav was enormously fond of Clarisse and enjoyed the rare times they were together. He wished his own dear wife was still alive; she and Clarisse had been very much alike.

Rupert's passing was a surprise, but the death of Philippe had been a shock. The young man had hesitated over taking the crown, but Gustav knew him to be intelligent and capable and he was pleased when Clarisse informed him of Philippe's decision to accept. She had also confided her relief at being able to give up the crown and retire. Gustav laughed aloud, causing the young woman to give him a worried look; he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

Her concern for the people was in her blood; Clarisse could no more retire than he could fit into his old army uniform. Across the crowded floor of the Vienna Opera House, he saw Clarisse talking to an Austrian cabinet member, her bodyguard a step behind her, to her left. He would bet the Cerneland crown jewels there were more agents to be found nearby. Joseph Coraza was thorough in his work.

During the week he spent in Genovia after Rupert's death, he'd noticed how Coraza watched over Clarisse during Rupert's funeral, and later Philippe's, like a hawk, more than once stepping in to keep Clarisse free from unnecessary intrusions and stress. At the time, he'd thought little of it other than the man was going beyond the usual security duties, but even that was understandable given the circumstances of the king's death. Since then, he'd noticed Coraza's attention to Clarisse's well-being had not wavered and it had recently occurred to Gustav that Coraza just might have more than simply a professional interest in the queen.

The thought did not bother Gustav in the least- he both liked and admired Joseph Coraza. Last spring, he'd had the opportunity to spend a pleasant hour and a half drive with the ex-British officer and they'd had a long and very interesting chat about all manner of things…but not Morely Addington, the Duke of Thornfield.

Morely Addington had been a prickle in Gustav's side for decades. The duke's title carried enough weight for the man to get away with what others could not…or would not try. He and Rupert had barely stopped Addington's clear-cutting of forests on land Addington owned in their respective countries before the devil had begun altering the flow of water through his properties. The headache of Addington's taxes was a legal mess tied up incourt and would likely stay there for years. He'd heard that other countries were also filing suit against the duke for various legal and financial reasons.

If it were up to him, he would have kicked the duke out of Cerneland years ago and confiscated every square centimeter of the man's property and every coin in his purse. Unfortunately, the sovereign's powers no longer included the authority to behead or banish at will. It was a pity, really. Such an entitlement would make things much easier.

Being a king still had its advantages, though, and one was a working knowledge of skeletons kept in the finest closets of the land. Every family had them, but some tended to rattle more loudly than others. The duke had his own secrets to keep and Gustav knew quite a number of them, including the fact that Joseph Coraza was Morely Addington's son.

In different circumstances, King Gustav would not have hesitated for a second in using such knowledge against Addington to gain an end. In this case, however, it would affect the life of someone who did not deserve to have his world turned upside down and be the object of scorn because of who his father was. He was sure thatonly a few others -Addington's own family- knew this fact, but after getting to know Coraza, Gustav was even more firm in his resolve to never betray that secret. Coraza had made excellent life for himself and he did not need to know that Morely Addington was his sire and have that dark cloud hanging over his head.

Despite how desperately the organizers of the Christmas Gala hoped Addington did not accept the invitation to the yearly ball, they were bound by tradition and his title to send it. Thus, among the bejeweled ladies in gowns and men in tails, there was always the disagreeable chance that an outcast like Morely Addington would show up.

And he had. Off to the side, at a table, sat the duke.

Gustav abruptly stopped in mid-pivot and watched as the duke downed a glass of amber liquid and unsteadily came to his feet. After hanging on to the table for a moment, Addington got his balance and headed through the crowd. Hoping the duke was aiming for the exit, Gustav apologized profusely to the curvaceous young woman for his apparent clumsiness and gave her his interest as he guided her into a series of twirls.

As they waltzed past the Kaiser Loge area of the room, he saw Joseph and Clarisse standing together, their heads nearly touching, smiling and talking with her hand on his arm. One of the king's eyebrows rose as he swung by and he slowed his steps to get a better look. As he circled the floor, he kept an eye on them and when Clarisse lifted her gaze to Joseph, her eyes alight with laughter, and Joseph placed his arm behind Clarisse, both bushy white eyebrows rose at the sight. Gustav grinned. Well, well- this was certainly an interesting development!

The grin suddenly disappeared as the Duke of Thornfield staggered into view and stopped in front of Clarisse and Joseph. The three seemed to carry on a conversation, a possibility Gustav found very odd, and in his bones, Gustav knew the discussion was not a friendly one. Hurriedly thanking the young woman for the dance before the music had even ended, Gustav pushed his way across the parquet floor, mumbling apologies to annoyed couples he collided with.

What trouble was Morely Addington causing now?

* * *

Surrounded by five levels of balconies hung with garlands of fir entwined with ribbons of gold and burgundy, and towering trees lit with twinkling gold and white lights, Clarisse felt as if she needed a breath of fresh air. The Vienna Opera House was beautiful, but the crush of people on the lower level was more than she was accustomed to. Most balls and receptions she attended were smaller affairs; this gala boasted a guest list of over two thousand.

She felt a bit uncomfortable being here in a large crowd without Rupert, even after his being gone nearly three years. It was only recently that she had begun attending balls and other non-political events and this was by far not only the largest, but the most elaborate. She'd thought that the sheer number of attendees would keep her from being so conscious of the fact that she was alone, but it had only made her more aware.

Tempted to leave early, Clarisse had put aside her uneasiness and promised herself she would stay for at least two hours. Since there was no lack of acquaintances to talk with, the time was passing quickly; Gustav was in attendance as was King Stefan and Queen Helene of Ravenstein. To her surprise, Clarisse had noticed that some of the unattached men, as well as a few attached, were showing more than just polite interest in her. It was a trifle unsettling.

In the years since Rupert's death, Clarisse had given little thought to dating or becoming romantically involved with anyone. She had her duties and responsibilities and her days were predictably and satisfyingly filled with meetings and correspondence. Mia visited during school holidays and they used the time to get to know one another better and travel. During each visit, Clarisse was careful to set apart time to acquaint Mia with what would be expected of her in her future role as queen. Overall, she was very pleased. Even so, she already had plans for the next school holiday; there was more work to be done.

Never bored, Clarisse felt no need for a man in her life and had no intention of allowing one.

It wasn't as if she were alone. Her dear friends Gustav, Stefan, and Helene had proven to be a great source of comfort and advice. Gustav had stayed in Genovia after the funeral and visited periodically. When she had begun accepting invitations again, he'd escorted her to several receptions and balls, unwittingly giving rise to a flood of speculation about their romantic interests in each other. While she was not at all amused, a delighted Gustav pronounced the gossip as the most entertaining occurrence of the year and confided that it was a boost to his self-esteem.

When he realized the stories truly upset her, Gustav declared he would make the ultimate sacrifice, as he called it, and set out to be seen with as many young women as he possibly could in order to counteract the talk. Despite her pointing out to him several times during the year that the talk had died down, Gustav continued to sport lovely young ladies on his arm saying he did not want a relapse of gossip to occur. Clarisse, however, thought Gustav's line of reasoning to be just an excuse to squire girls half his age around Europe.

The whole incident had made her aware of how easily gossip could start, so she generally refused anyone's offer to escort her to functions. She arrived alone and whatever needs arose during the evening Joseph, or his staff, was more than capable of handling them. After a while, she found the arrangement was more than satisfactory and that being on her own agreed with her.

Although her days were busy enough, she had to admit there were times when she missed having casual chats about nothing in particular or earnest discussions on what was laying heavy on her heart. Charlotte was a sensible young woman and, on occasion, Clarisse asked her advice about matters of diplomacy or lesser issues. There was also her family, but Clarisse did not want to burden them.They did not truly understand her responsibilities. Few people did.

Although the moments of loneliness were far and few between, she found that taking time for herself helped. Three times a week, sometimes more often when the weather allowed, she would make time to walk in the garden in the evenings and Joseph would join her. Their discussions ranged from how to treat the aphids that had attacked her roses to restructuring the tax system. He had a dry sense of humor that showed itself when she least expected it and she thoroughly enjoyed his company during those quiet moments at the end of the day.

Although she thought her rose garden to be fairly safe and an agent not needed during her strolls, she was thankful Joseph took it upon himself to provide her protection rather than assign the job to one of his men. Perhaps he knew she would feel more comfortable with someone her own age, or perhaps he thought another guard might not be as sensitive to the times she preferred to simply walk in silence. There were moments when she was certain Joseph enjoyed the walks just as much as she did.

While he was never out of bounds in his behavior, Joseph did, at times, puzzle her. He had asked her to dance again at the Independence Day Ball in San Francisco. She'd been extremely surprised since there were others around, but after the close call with Amelia she was pleased allow him. It was truly a night of celebration for everyone. Escorting her from the ballroom later, he had taken her hand in his, kissing it after dismissing the guards, then shown her to a sitting room that opened onto the embassy's garden. The vacant room, which she used to receive guests during the consulate's business hours, was at the far end of the building and closed off for the evening. Somehow, Joseph always knew when she needed to get away.

They'd stood in companionable silence in the shadows of the porch, looking out over the fairy lights and the splashing fountain, his arm resting lightly on the small of her back. She'd thanked him again for finding Mia and for all he'd done- Joseph had literally saved the crown and country. He'd taken her hands and faced her, gazing at her openly until he'd finally whispered, "Always remember that I am yours to command, my queen."

The meaning of his words had confused her. Never, by word or deed, had Clarisse given Joseph reason to think that he was anything less than a loyal and devoted member of staff. Sometimes, she wondered if…

There were shouts of laughter from a nearby large group of people. It took only a glance over her shoulder and Joseph was by her side.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" he asked, leaning close so that she would not have to raise her voice to be heard over the music and noise.

"I was thinking of going some place quieter," she replied. "This is all a bit…overwhelming."

"Would you care to walk along the loggia or would you rather retire to your box for while?" he asked. "It is a bit chilly, but if you wish, I will have one of the men retrieve your cape so that you might walk in the courtyard."

"Sitting down with something cool to drink would be wonderful," she decided, laying her hand on his arm. "Let's make use of the box and simply watch the crowd for a while." She dropped her voice and moved closer. "And lock the door so no one can disturb us!"

Joseph pretended to be shocked. "Your Majesty, we would have everyone talking."

"I don't care- just as long as I can slip my shoes off for a while!" Laughing, her eyes meeting his and saw the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. He smiled and Clarisse found herself wishing he would more often. He was a very handsome man.

"Leave it to me, my queen," he whispered in her ear, placing a hand on her back, nearly around her waist. Clarisse thought it a pleasant, comforting gesture. They turned toward the stairs leading to her reserved box on the second level, but before they'd taken two steps, a figure blocked their path.

"Queen Clarisse, you should be more strict with your servants," Morely Addington called out, his voice carrying. "I should not have to tell you that allowing an employee, a mere guard, at that, to touch you and fawn over you is not proper at all. People will get the wrong impression unless…" He let the implication hang in the air.

Clarisse started to respond, but Joseph increased the pressure of his hand on her back, and she remained quiet, trusting him. Keeping himself between her and Addington, Joseph made to go around the duke.

"And you! What are you doing dressed like _that_?" Addington continued, his speech slurring slightly. Around them, conversation ceased. "Are you planning to…to _dance_ with her- a _queen_?" The duke burst out laughing, his face reddening. Joseph spoke one word into his mike as he turned to stare at the duke.

"I'm surprised you haven't observed that all security personnel are dressed to blend in," Joseph replied mildly, just loud enough for the three of them to hear, his hand still on Clarisse's back. "Then again, you were always good at noticing only that which suited you."

His laughter dying, Addington's face grew redder and more people turned to see what was going on.

_"Such insolence!_" He stumbled back a step. "Such rudeness-and to me, your superior, your _better_! Have you no _manners_?"

"Please lower your voice," Joseph asked calmly. "Excuse us," he added moving to the right. The duke stepped in front of him again, his hands balled into fists. She heard Joseph sigh in frustration and disgust.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarisse saw Shades and Anton moving closer; behind them, hurrying through the crowd, were several large, somber men. She glanced at Joseph. He was eyeing the duke warily, his patience wearing thin.

The duke stuck his arm out, pointing his finger at Joseph, and shook it.

"I _demand_ you remove yourself from this hall since it is obvious you cannot conduct yourself as a common servant should!" Addington thundered. The music had stopped and couples leaving the dance floor were pausing to gawk what was happening, whispering amongst themselves.

"You may _not_ make demands on my staff, sir!" Queen Clarisse answered angrily before Joseph could speak. Anton took a position immediately to her right and Shades came to stand on Joseph's left.

"Then I would advise you to see to your hired help and ensure they conduct themselves properly," the duke snapped. "It is _appalling_ how you allow your inferiors to behave."

Joseph spoke quietly to Shades then bowed to the queen, turned, and left. Disappointment clouding her expression, Clarisse watched Joseph's back as he disappeared into the crowd, forcing herself to stay calm, nearly calling him back.

"Don't _ever again_ presume to advise me or address my staff," she retorted just loud enough to be heard, rounding on the duke. She drew herself up and gazed at him distastefully. "I find your presence offensive."

Anton moved just forward of her, his hands crossed in front of him as he looked down on the duke while Shades stared at the duke from behind his ever-present sunglasses. The presence of the two men was not nearly as comforting as simply having Joseph at her side, Clarisse found. She wished he had not left.

From her right, where he'd witness most of what had occurred, King Gustav, shadowed by his own guard, casually moved into the small circle and flicked a glance at the surrounding spectators. The crowd quickly began to disperse and the murmur of voices increased as conversations resumed.

"Addington, you are a drunk and a fool." The king cocked his head to the side and regarded the duke, not bothering to hide his loathing for the man. "I strongly suggest you apologize to Her Majesty…then leave."

Morely Addington seemed to mull over the suggestion for a moment before giving Clarisse a wobbly, exaggerated bow.

"My most sincere _apology_, Your Majesty." Smirking, the duke signaled a passing waiter for a drink and sauntered away.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Gustav asked as soon as Addington was out of earshot. The three guards stepped back to give them privacy. The other men moved away.

"That man! He makes me so angry- insulting Joseph!"

"Coraza will be fine," Gustav assured her. His eyes began to twinkle. "You are worried about Joseph? You must think very highly of him."

"Yes, I do!" Clarisse declared, her cheeks pinkening and her eyes flashing.

"Joseph's behavior is above reproach and we are extremely fortunate to have him!"

Gustav nodded. When fired up, Clarisse was even lovelier than usual. "Oh, yes, I certainly agree, and I would have to say that he is fortunate in having a queen who would come to his defense so vigorously." He could not help but smile at the thought of a man such as Joseph Coraza being protected by the elegant woman before him.

"Morely Addington has no right to embarrass my staff…and to do so in public!" She huffed indignantly. "How _dare_ he?"

"Morely Addington dares to do quite a number of things," the king observed, growing somber. He looked down at the intricate patterned flooring and continued thoughtfully, more to himself than to Clarisse. "A pity, really."

"A pity?" She frowned, unable to believe what she'd just heard. "Don't tell me you feel sorry for him, Gustav!"

"No, not at all. It's just that through his own choosing, Addington has missed out on what many would give a king's ransom for," he replied quietly, thinking of his and his late wife's inability to have children, though they'd wanted them with all their hearts.

Morely Addington had thrown away a son.

She looked at him, confused and he took her hand.

"My dear Clarisse, it has been far too long since I had the unrivaled pleasure of dancing with you." He leaned closer and whispered loudly. "And I must admit I have missed our being at the center of gossip!" He released her hand and offered an arm. "May I have the honor?"

"Of course. I'd love to, Gustav. And thank you for your assistance," she answered gratefully.

Composing her features into a smile, she tried to ignore the shoes that pinched her feet as Gustav led her to the dance floor. She looked toward where Joseph had disappeared and her smile faded. She had half a mind to request that Joseph return, and then make a point of dancing with him. But, that might cause him further embarrassment, she decided, and reluctantly dismissed the idea.

Gustav saw her brow wrinkle and debated whether he should point out that Joseph had left to prevent Addington from creating more of a scene. Surely, she knew that. As the music started, he bowed and took her in his arms, recalling how Clarisse had looked at Joseph with a smile of affection and with laughter in her eyes. Gustav grinned and twirled Clarisse quickly through a series of turns while wondering when Genovia's queen would realize she was in love with Joseph Coraza.

* * *

From the Opera House porch, Joseph could see Hans moving away from a group of drivers and security personnel waiting by the cars. When he hit the bottom step, Hans was at his side.

"Sir, is everything OK?" the younger man asked worriedly. It was near freezing- his words were puffs of mist.

Slowing his stride, Joseph nodded and took a deep breath, the cold stinging deep in his chest. "Yes, everything's fine. A guest had too much to drink and there was a slight scene, that's all."

He opened the front door of the limo and reached under the seat for a bottle of water. Far too many people had been watching and listening and the duke was liable to say or do anything, causing further embarrass for Clarisse. He took a long swallow of water then another. His pride was certainly not worth Clarisse's distress, so he'd simply left.

"Relieve Anton in thirty minutes," Joseph instructed, looking around the plaza that fronted the imposing, columned building. Traffic through the area had been rerouted to allow for the long line of limousines that stretched to the far end of the street. Two cars, one bearing the Austrian flag and the other adorned with flags of Cerneland, were in front of Genovia's. Behind them were cars flying the flags of over two dozen nations.

After several more swallows of water, he tossed the bottle onto the car seat and shrugged his overcoat on against the chill. He spotted a familiar figure walking toward him on the street side of the cars and Joseph rounded the limo.

"Good evening, Colonel!" the short, stocky man called, extending his hand.

"Nice to see you again, Inspector," Joseph answered, taking it. He'd heard of Chesterson's retirement from Interpol and his being named as security advisor to his queen. "Enjoying the quiet life of guarding the royal family?"

"Damn kids are running me crazy!" Chesterson snorted. "One prince barely gets out of trouble before the other one's in it."

Joseph smiled. "Ah, for the good old days of straightforward bombings and gun-running."

"Well, maybe the work _is_ a bit easier…and the pay's better, no doubt about that," he grudgingly admitted. He squinted, peering at Joseph. "Run into the worst sort of people at times, I must say."

"You heard?"

"Couldn't help but," Chesterson replied, propping a foot up on a low barricade. He fished around in his pocket. "Every agent in the there was ready to take out that lunatic. The man's got a reputation for trouble."

"Apparently," Joseph answered dryly. "Thanks, by the way. I saw your man."

"You're welcome. Why'd he go after _you_?" Chesterson asked around a fat cigar. He puffed steadily to get it going and watched Coraza, wondering if there was more to the story. Morely Addington, from what Chesterson had heard, usually confined his provocations to lesser personages than royalty and never to an armed guard.

Joseph shrugged vaguely. "Alcohol set him off, I suppose."

After a moment, Chesterson gave a noncommittal grunt. "Could be." He rested his arm on his knee. "Anything I can do?"

Just as he himself did, Joseph knew Chesterson still had many contacts across Europe. "No. Just an unfortunate incident."

"All right, but if you need anything…" He knew Coraza well and could see the unease just beneath the surface of cool control. Chesterson let the subject drop. The cigar tip glowed and a cloud of smoke drifted away with the breeze. "By the way, did you hear about the mess Toke and Madman got themselves into over in Venice? You won't believe this one- they were undercover as nuns and…"

Unable to keep from laughing at the picture that came to mind, Joseph shook his head and they fell to discussing news of mutual acquaintances as the minutes flew by.

* * *

His attention on the portly man across the room, Gustav nodded absently at Stefan's comment about the banking situation and the Swiss diplomat's reply. He thought the duke had left, but it seemed Addington had instead spent the past half hour drinking at a corner table with Viscount Mabrey.

Addington's behavior tonight infuriated the king, but for Clarisse's sake he'd held his tongue and tried to make light of the incident. The disregard of laws, the flaunting of proprieties, and now the embarrassing comments to Clarisse and to Coraza- Gustav had had enough.

He watched as Addington rose from the table, obviously inebriated, and stumbled toward a nearby door. Stefan and the diplomat were engrossed in arguing a fine point of finance and Gustav glanced at the ladies seated behind him. Clarisse would be occupied for at least a few more minutes discussing an upcoming garden event with Queen Helene and the ambassador's wife. No one would miss him. He nodded to his guard and slipped away to follow the duke and a minute later stepped quietly into the anteroom Addington had entered.

* * *

Just over forty-five minutes had passed since he'd come outside and Shades was reporting everything going well in the ballroom. Although he did not intend to resume his post at her side, Joseph wanted to see for himself. Crowds caused him concern, particularly those who could come and go at will from the building. Laying his coat on the car seat, he informed Anton he was going in.

Joseph ascended the broad front steps and entered the foyer by the door on the far right, which was reserved for security personnel and those with access cards. He would take a vantage point along the lower balcony where he could discreetly observe the activity below, he decided. Wishing to avoid the crowd of guests, he walked the short distance down the hallway and pushed open a pair of heavy, carved doors. He knew that a service stairway led from the anteroom to the floor above. With stacks of chairs along the wall to his left, the room was empty but for himself and a lone figure that was unsteadily negotiating a path across the ornate rug.

Joseph stopped just inside the doorway and turned off his mike.

"_You_! What are you still doing here?" the duke spluttered, stopping so suddenly he nearly lost his balance. "I told you to _leave_!"

A retort came to mind, but Joseph decided not to bother; he wanted to see Clarisse. Without speaking, he continued across the room, Addington watching him. When he silently neared the duke, the man jerkily swung an arm out toward him.

"Who do you think you are?" the disheveled duke growled. "You will not ignore me!"

Joseph's steps slowed then stopped. He turned to face Addington. "As you ignored me, _Father_?"

As if struck, the duke staggered backwards. _"How dare you call me that!"_ he spat. "You will never call me that again!"

Joseph looked at his father with open contempt and under his intense stare, the duke shrank away.

In an attempt to recover his poise, Addington tried to draw himself up straight. Suddenly, a satisfied grin twisted his features. "I have information that would bring shame to the House of Renaldi- very embarrassing to the memory of old Rupert should it get out."

Unhurriedly, Joseph came to stand directly in front of the duke, hands in his pockets as if the duke posed no physical threat in the least.

"Listen carefully," Joseph said quietly. "You will do nothing to cause embarrassment to the Genovian throne."

"It would soil Rupert's reputation and-"

"You will never interfere in my sister's lives again by word or deed," he continued firmly, staring directly into his father's bloodshot eyes. "Never."

"What right do _you_ dictate to _me_?" Addington bellowed.

"Or," Joseph continued, "I promise that everyone on the European continent will know you raped a sixteen year old girl and ignored your own child."

Addington's face reddened and for a moment Joseph wondered if the man was going to collapse right there on the carpeting. The moment passed and Joseph found he did not care- whatever happened to his father, the duke had brought it on himself. He watched dispassionately as the duke's mouth moved soundlessly.

"You wouldn't dare!" the duke finally managed.

"Yes," Joseph replied matter-of-factly, "I would."

_"Leave!"_ Fists clenched, Addington lurched toward him. Joseph took his hands from his pocket, but did not move and Addington stumbled to a haltYou…_bastard!"_

Joseph nearly laughed at the ludicrousness of the statement coming from his own father. The duke backed away, glaring at his son.

"Never forget," Joseph warned, "because I won't, I assure you."

Cursing, the duke pushed past Joseph and staggered on toward the lobby. Joseph's expression remained blank as he watched his father leave; he felt nothing at all for Morely Addington. He wanted the Duke of Thornfield out of his life for good. He was not his father's son.

Swiftly, Joseph crossed to the staircase, mounting the steps two at a time.

In the shadowed alcove by the door, Gustav gestured toward the door leading back into the ballroom and quietly instructed his guard to never repeat what had just transpired.

* * *

Clarisse simply could not stand it any longer. It had been nearly an hour. Was Joseph all right? What was he doing? She excused herself from the ladies and walked to where the closer of her guards stood.

"Tell me, have you heard from Joseph?" she asked. Shades' expression did not seem to change, but it was hard to tell with him wearing those sunglasses. Clarisse had once considering asking him to remove them, but since Joseph allowed it, she figured there must be a reason. Was there something wrong with the poor man's eyes? Surely not- he carried a gun!

"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Coraza returned to the building a short while ago."

"He's here?" She looked around, eyes widening. "Where?"

"The second tier balcony, Your Majesty, behind you."

Clarisse turned then lifted her gaze…and caught her breath. Just above her, in an empty area of seats, Joseph leaned against a pillar, watching her, his arms crossed over his chest. She was used to his attentive gaze, but this was different. His expression was dark and forceful…almost dangerous in its intensity.

She'd thought him handsome before, but a new awareness overwhelmed her and across the distance Clarisse could easily feel the raw masculine power of the man. It was if she were on the edge of a terrifying, yet exhilarating sensation. Unable to look away, she stared openly, everything around her fading into the background as she imagined Joseph at her side, his strong arms encircling her, pulling her tight against him, his breath warm on her throat and his body hard as they…

_"…all right, Clarisse, dear?"_

She blinked. Helene was looking at her worriedly, as was Stefan. Gustav, a glass of champagne in his hand, glanced up to where Joseph was standing, now half shadowed, and covered a laugh behind his hand with a cough. A corner of Shade's mouth was turned up in the very slightest of smiles. Nearby, Hans was studying his feet.

"Clarisse?" Helene repeated, touching her gloved arm.

"Yes, yes I'm fine, thank you." She took a deep breath as the sights and sounds of the ball rushed over her. "I'm fine, I just…"

"My dear, you looked as if you were in another world," Helene said, unconvinced her friend wasn't about to faint. "Do sit down- Stefan, get Clarisse a damp cloth."

Taken aback, Stefan looked around for where he could find such a thing in the middle of a grand ballroom then reached across the table for Gustav's nearly empty water glass. He plucked the silk handkerchief from his lapel pocket and stuffed it into the goblet.

"No, really, that's not necessary," Clarisse protested as Stefan held out the sopping hankie. "I'm fine, just tired. It's been a lovely evening, but I think I will retire."

Plans were reconfirmed for lunch at the hotel, goodbyes kisses were exchanged, and Clarisse gratefully followed Hans to the doors. Behind her, she heard Shades speaking softly and realized he was informing the other agents. Glancing up to the balcony, she saw Joseph fade into the depths of the shadows and Clarisse experienced that same bewildering feeling she had earlier and suddenly recalled just how having a man around could be gratifying.

She hurried on, welcoming the mind-clearing cold night air.

* * *

Terribly sorry that it's been so long since I updated this. My New Year's resolution is that I will finish it (and my other stories) next year-! I have too many other Clarisse/Joseph stories waiting!

_I hope you all have a merry and very blessed Christmas!_


	14. Hearts still apart

Chapter 14

Joseph Coraza pressed the button marked 'seventeen' and leaned against the elevator's wall as the lift rose smoothly toward the top floor of the small, exclusive London hotel. Queen Clarisse had remained in her suite that morning to go over the papers dealing with the trade agreements and policy statements sure to come up with her meeting at Buckingham palace the next day. Free for a few hours, he had met his long-time friend Chesterson for breakfast and had toured the palace's new security center. It was an impressive complex and had brought to mind the disorder he'd found in Genovia upon his arrival six years earlier.

Six years- nearly seven. Had it really been that long since his retirement and employment with the royal family? Since he had first seen Clarisse in that sunlit anteroom of the palace and lost his heart? Joseph shook his head. It seemed like only yesterday he had made the decision to stay in Genovia.

A soft chime brought his attention back to the present. Silently, the doors slid apart to reveal agent Pearson at his post in the small lobby.

"Everything quiet?" Joseph asked, pausing beside the desk.

Nodding, Pearson glanced at the doors leading to the queen's suite. "Yes, sir. Nothing of note except a change of luncheon plans."

"An alteration of plans?" Joseph frowned. "What changes? Is the queen still here?"

"She's here. Been working all morning." Pearson saw his boss's expression and quickly continued. "Nothing big- just lunch at the home of friends. Should be a simple job."

"Details?" On occasion, Queen Clarisse did change her plans, but rarely on this short notice. Joseph wondered what could be so urgent or important.

"Private estate about twenty-one kilometers from here. The drive is an easy one and clear according to Shades." Coraza still did not look pleased and Pearson added, "Her Majesty plans to spend a couple of hours there then return to prepare for the reception tonight. She's to leave in thirty minutes."

"I see." He didn't like last minute changes, but at least this was not a public appearance and Shades had checked it out. Private homes posed little security risk. "Thank you. Please ask Shades to meet me in my room in five minutes. By the way, who is she visiting?"

Pearson searched the sheets in front of him. "It's right here….the Duke of…Creshwell- one Everette Howe, but I think it's the duchess Her Majesty is friends with." He handed a copy of the itinerary to Joseph. "What kind of coverage do you want, sir?" Pearson laughed. "Do we need a full contingent?"

Joseph said nothing, but stared at the paper in his hands.

"Sir?" Pearson repeated.

Joseph took a deep breath. The Duke and Duchess of Creshwell. He could send another, but it would be shirking his duty…and cowardly. "No, I'm sure Her Majesty would like to keep the visit low-key. I'll take it."

"Yes, sir. Should I alert Anton to drive?"

"That won't be necessary." He looked up. "Thank you. Have the car brought around."

His years of experience taking over, Joseph moved automatically, confirming security details with Shades and giving directions to be taken in preparation for the evening and following day's activities. Forefront, however, was the realization that he was going to the home of his father's sister, his aunt. He understood that acknowledgement of his presence, if the duke and duchess even did so- and most people ignored security personnel- it would be as an employee of the queen. Still…

Was there a possibility? Did his aunt know of his existence? Would she care?

Reaching for his jacket on the dresser, Joseph saw his reflection in the mirror and froze. He ran a hand along his jaw and chin. Who did he look like? Was there a resemblance between himself and Morely Addington? He tried to recall the face he'd worked so hard to banish from his memories. They shared the same height and brown eyes, perhaps the same general build, even though the duke was stout now. Would his aunt see a likeness?

His hand stilled. Should the truth come out, what would Clarisse say? Emotions of fear and hope, shame and desire overwhelmed Joseph.

He had loved Clarisse since that first day, however out of necessity had kept his feelings to himself. Her husband had been gone now for four years, yet she seemed content in her single position. There was a time when he had feared King Gustav was paying court to Clarisse and she would return the king's sentiment. That had not happened, but there were others who did not hide their wish for the queen's attention. Surely, she noticed them.

Statesmen, diplomats, men of position and wealth…Queen Clarisse had many admirers who were becoming more bold in their advances. Illegitimate and without affluence, how could he stand shoulder to shoulder with them? Why would Clarisse notice him? He was no one and had no right to even hope for her heart?

His hands tightened into a fist around the black leather, imagining her reaction to his parentage. They were of two separate worlds, he and his queen.

There was a sharp knock on the door and Joseph abruptly turned from the mirror.

"Sir," Shades said, opening the door just far enough to lean inside. "It's time."

"Thank you." Joseph shrugged the jacket over his shoulders and straightened his tie. "I'm ready. Have Pearson call the elevator."

"Done." Shades hesitated a moment, watching his boss. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine. See to those arrangements," Joseph replied brusquely, entering the hallway just as Queen Clarisse left her suite.

* * *

"Nervous, my dear?"

"I don't know how I'm going to get through this," Margaret Howe replied. This time, she would not have a floppy hat and sunglasses to hide behind or a bank of potted palms between her and her nephew.

Everette frowned. "It is possible, you know, that Joseph will not be with her." His wife's expression immediately fell and he quickly added, "Although, I must admit that would be disappointing."

"Part of me wants him to come, yet another part is afraid he will do just that," Margaret sighed.

"I know- I feel the same," her husband admitted. He paused in re-doing his tie. "I wonder what he's like."

"Oh, he's charming and handsome," Margaret answered decisively with a smile.

Everette looked at her curiously. "How do you know that, my dear?"

Caught, her eyes widened and she looked away, studiously avoiding her husband's gaze. "Well, ah…he would be, of course." Pleased with her quick thinking, she smiled broadly. "You know good looks and pleasant character run in the Addington family."

He stared at her. "Yes, you brother Morely is a prime example of that, isn't he?"

Margaret pretended she had not heard her husband and busied herself with the flowers on her dresser, scattering petals all over the floor in the process, and assumed the most innocent air she could muster.

"Margaret," he said quietly, "what have you done?"

More petals fell. "Oh, nothing, really…." she answered nonchalantly, waving away his distress with her hand, "well, that is I only…"

Everette closed his eyes. "Did you connive a way to meet Joseph?"

"He never saw me!" she retorted defensively. "Well, he did," she amended. She could stretch the truth till it was unrecognizable if need be, but outright lying was still one of her weak points. She was working on it, though. "Anyway, he had no idea who I was."

"What? You met Joseph anyway, after we decided it would not be for the best?" he demanded. "Maggie, you know what your brother is capable of and you deliberately risked hurting-"

"I didn't _deliberately _do anything of the sort!" she snapped. "It was an accident that the flying thing landed in his date's salad- that nice young headmistress from the girls' school, by the way- and he kindly returned it to me. I was, of course, in disguise," she added haughtily, "so he would not recognize me."

Really, she thought, men could be so dense at times.

Everette shook his head and quickly dropped the subject of his wife's escapades. For his blood pressure's sake and from experience, he knew he was better off not knowing.

* * *

Pleased that her schedule was allowing her this visit, Clarisse settled into the soft leather seats of the luxury sedan and smiled as Joseph steered the car out into traffic. Bettina Addington had been a dear friend until her death at far too young an age during a miserable marriage to Morely Addington. For years Clarisse had wanted to honor her friend somehow and the perfect opportunity had presented itself. She had personally donated the funds for a new area of indigenous flowers in the Genovian Botanical Garden and had decided to dedicate it to Bettina. Bettina had loved flowers and gardening.

Her smile faded as she thought of the unhappiness her friend had suffered as the wife of the duke. Her girls, Cassandra and Lucinda, were the joy of Bettina's too short life. Last she had heard, the girls were doing well and their design business was growing. Perhaps she would commission a dress for an upcoming ball.

Although she had met Margaret Howe through Bettina and was not very close to her, Clarisse considered Margaret a treasured friend. Everette Howe's youngest brother had been Rupert's roommate for two years in college, so the families knew one another. It would be good to see Margaret again.

Out of courtesy, Clarisse wanted to inform Margaret before inviting the girls to the dedication. The duke had a terrible temper, as she knew only too well, but there was no reason for him to object. Even if he did, it would make no difference; the dedication had nothing to do with him. Morely Addington could not spoil this as he had the evening for her and Joseph at the Vienna Opera House Ball a year ago.

The duke had rarely been heard from since that night other than to refuse to answer the outcry of five countries over his environmentally unsound practices and his dubious financial transactions. The nations, including Genovia, were in the process of determining how to deal with Morely Addington.

It might take a while, but they were resolute in their goal of stopping him. The man had no son, thankfully, and the only heir, Margaret and Everette's son Kent, did not need it; he would inherit his father's title. If the Duke of Thornfield's title was lost in the process and his legacy and fortune were ruined, so much the better.

The car surged forward and putting the duke out of her mind, Clarisse looked to Joseph as he deftly maneuvered the car through traffic. For a moment, the small earring in his ear flashed in the sunlight. She had often wondered about it- when and why he'd begun wearing it.

It made him look like a dashing pirate. She bit back a giggle. What would her somber Head of Security think of _that_?

Clarisse wiggled a bit deeper in the seat, getting comfortable. More than just good-looking and extremely intelligent, Joseph was amusing when he chose to be and she enjoyed their talks immensely. He was excellent at his work and very capable in any situation. He was unquestionably worthy of the confidences he was privy to and his loyalty was beyond doubt. She could think of no one else she trusted more or wished at her side.

The day was overcast, but he had on his darkest sunglasses. He was also wearing that black leather jacket. A smile played about her lips as one eyebrow rose slightly. Joseph looked incredibly good in black. Dark tie, black shirt and pants… the graying goatee. She took a deep breath.

_Really, Clarisse!_

But it's true, she argued. There was no denying that Joseph was a very handsome man and surely there was no harm in acknowledging it. What was the word Mia and her friends were always using? _Hunk_- that was it Was Joseph a hunk?

With no thought to her hair, Clarisse leaned back against the headrest. Nice shoulders, muscular build - she'd lingered as long as possible by the window upon seeing him after one of his early morning run with his agents. His muscles were quite evident with the black, sweaty fabric of his t-shirt clinging to his chest and abdomen. Her breathing quickened at the memory.

And he always had that mysterious air of tight control about him…as if there was something just below the surface waiting to be unleashed. Yes, Joseph was unquestionably a hunk. She placed a calming cool hand on her cheek. Furthermore, he was-

"Your Majesty, we will arrive in five minutes."

- her employee.

Clarisse quickly sat up, smoothing the hair on the nape of her neck self-consciously. "Thank you, Joseph," she replied unsteadily.

Blushing, she turned away to the window.

* * *

Clarisse immediately forgot her discomfort when they stopped before the Howe's grand home and she saw her friends waiting for her. Waving away custom, she hugged Margaret and greeted Everette warmly, insisting they call her by name. She stepped back, puzzled.

Margaret was staring at Joseph and Everette had slipped an arm around his wife's shoulders. Clarisse turned to see Joseph standing by the car, his hands clasped in front of him, looking straight ahead and away from them. Her friends' reactions were to the just-visible gun tucked into the holster at his side, she decided; they were not used to guests bringing a personal bodyguard.

"This is Joseph, my Head of Security," she hurriedly explained, hoping to allay any worries they might have. While she was used to the security precautions around her, others were not and it could be unsettling to them. Clarisse did not introduce the Howes to Joseph; it would not have been proper.

For a long moment, neither of her friends spoke and Everette's arm tightened about his wife before he finally answered. "Good afternoon, Joseph."

Joseph turned toward them and inclined his head a fraction. "Good afternoon," he said softly without moving. His eyes remained hidden behind the dark lenses. Clarisse glanced from Joseph to her friends and there was an awkward pause.

"Well," Everette spoke suddenly, "Let's go in, shall we?"

"Yes, let's do. Clarisse, dear," Margaret agreed, her voice a growing stronger with each word as she recalled her duties as hostess. She stepped forward to take her Clarisse's arm, "it has been far too long since we've had the chance to visit. You must tell me all about your lovely granddaughter."

As the women entered the house, Everette hung back and approached Joseph. "I realize you need to stay close in order to look after Queen Clarisse." He gestured to the open door. "Please, come in and make your- that is, feel free to move about our home."

"Thank you. I'd like to take a look around back, if I may." Joseph replied.

"Of course," Everette agreed. The men fell in step beside each other.

* * *

Drinking in every detail, Joseph moved slowly into the area adjoining the sunroom where Clarisse and the Howes were dining. It, as did the adjoining rooms across the back of the house, opened onto a porch. Beyond the porch were a small, walled garden and an old stone stable now used as a garage. There was no security risk, as expected, and Joseph tried to relax. This would likely be the only visit he would ever have in the home of his family.

He glanced toward Clarisse then quietly walked across the room to where a side table was crowded with framed photos. His gaze skimmed over them.

There had been no sign that his aunt knew him. Other than to offer him tea, which he declined, she had not spoken to him. Disappointment was mixed with relief; she did not know of him. But then, why would she?

His father had seen to it that he was kept well away from family and acquaintances, and had in no way acknowledged his existence. Very few people, if any, would have known he was Morely Addington's son. His mother and grandmother were dead and he had no other relations on that side of his family. Neither the solicitors and bank officers who long ago had handled the transfer of funds for his schooling nor the school's headmasters would have no care one way or the other, even if they were still alive. After nearly sixty years, Joseph was nearly certain no one knew the Duke's secret.

It was an odd feeling being in his aunt's home, almost as if it were a dream. To be so close to family- his breath caught. In an ornately carved frame was a picture of two young girls in pigtails and behind it another of the girls in evening dresses. His sisters. He felt his throat tighten and he swallowed. They were beautiful and he ached to be able to meet them, to tell them how much he cared.

Gently, he touched the frame's edge. If only….

"Colonel Coraza?"

Joseph jerked his hand away, knocking over the picture. He caught before it slid into the others and carefully set it upright, gritting his teeth at his clumsiness.

"Yes?" he replied, hoping his inquisitiveness had not observed. By the door stood a man who so much favored Everette Howe he could only be the son.

The man smiled broadly and strode across the room, hand outstretched.

"I'm Kent Howe- Major Kent Howe of Her Majesty's Army." He gripped Joseph's hand firmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I believe we have a common acquaintance in General P. T. Olson. He has advised our staff on several occasions."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Joseph managed. Kent Howe had eyes identical to his own.

"Would you join me for coffee," Kent quickly continued, as a servant set a tray on a low table, "unless, of course, it would keep you from your duties?" He nodded toward the other room and dropped onto the sofa, chuckling. "I think they will be chatting for quite a while yet. Mother does tend to run on with old friends and it's quite impossible to stop her once she gets started."

"Thank you. Coffee would be nice." Keeping those at the table in view, Joseph sat on a chair opposite the younger man. With every word spoken etched in his memory, he spent the next hour talking with his cousin.

* * *

Only too soon, it seemed to Joseph, he was dutifully assisting Queen Clarisse into the car then leaving his family's home. On the way past the immaculate hedges and lawn bordering the drive, he kept his eyes focused directly ahead, away from the rearview mirror, denying himself a last look back. Had he, Joseph would have seen his aunt bury her face in her husband's chest and weep.

* * *

Putting off completing the arrangements for the garden dedication scheduled for the next day for a few minutes, Charlotte Kutaway examined the newspaper article on the front page of the Genovian Times about the previous day's museum opening. The accompanying photograph was of the queen hiding her smile behind a gloved hand. What particularly interested Charlotte was the fact that Joseph, also trying to conceal his amusement, was at her side and the two were engrossed in conversation. The caption stated the queen was consulting her Head of Security about her schedule. However, Charlotte, who had been standing behind them, knew that in fact Queen Clarisse had asked if he had ever seen a more dreadful work of art in his life. Joseph had said no.

Decided, she carefully cut out the photograph and slipped an album from the bottom drawer of her desk. The newspapers were full of such pictures with Joseph always at the queen's side, attentive and protective. Some of them showed the two leaning close to speak; nearly all featured Clarisse smiling at him. One of Joseph smiling in return was rare and Charlotte was pleased to add it to her collection. She cleared a space and set the leather bound book on the desk. The album was getting too full; she would have to start yet another very soon.

Since seeing Joseph and the queen dancing twice in San Francisco, Charlotte had taken more careful note of the relationship. Joseph, she was convinced, was in love. The queen, however, was harder to read.

With any other woman, Charlotte would have said Joseph's feelings were returned, but Clarisse Renaldi was no ordinary woman. The queen's entire life and being was dedicated to her country and people to the exclusion of even her own personal needs. Too, the queen was very aware of public opinion and had commented more than once that she could not afford to appear to be shirking her duties for frivolous pursuits of any sort including personal ones.

Did the queen think love frivolous?

She flipped the album pages slowly, noting the various pictures of the couple, her grin of amusement growing larger and larger. There were shots of Joseph opening a door for the queen, holding an umbrella over the two of them with his other arm resting on her back to guide her, translating for her at a reception for foreign representatives, and, more often than not, Joseph simply standing closer than was necessary. In many of them they were touching and they looked extremely comfortable with each other.

A turn of the page showed her favorite picture and she paused. As if alone, and without two hundred people surrounding them, the queen and Joseph were gazing at one another, slightly smiling, with her hand resting on his arm. Their expressions were warm and tender.

It made Charlotte smile. She had little doubt that Clarisse Renaldi cared deeply for Joseph…but did the queen know it?

Charlotte slipped the newest picture into a protective sleeve and closed the album with a soft thud.

* * *

Joseph glanced in the rearview mirror and the corner of his mouth turned up. The young ladies in the back seat were lovely, lively, and absolutely splendid. The fact that they were his sisters might have been a factor in his feeling so, but he would have denied it; Lucinda and Cassandra were all those things and more.

Four months ago he would have found the situation difficult to handle, but in the time since the queen's visit to his aunt's house, Joseph had come to terms with himself. He would look upon the situation with a positive attitude and be grateful and pleased for what he had.

As they chatted, he drank in their voices, enjoying the women's talk of Lucinda's husband and young daughter- his niece- and their plans for the summer. He knew their business was thriving and they had opened a second shop in London. He could not help but be proud of them. There was a rattling of paper and a gold and green striped bag was thrust toward him.

"These pear drops are just as delicious as I remember them from when I was a child here to visit Queen Clarisse with Mother! Please have one, Joseph," Lucinda offered.

"Thank you, but no," he said, as he slowed the car for a sharp turn in the road. They were nearly to the outer edge of the royal estate.

"Mmm. They _are_ good! Thank you for stopping by the candy shop," Cassandra said with a giggle. "You're a good man, Joseph."

"Because I took you to a candy store?" he asked, amused.

"Because you didn't laugh when we asked you to," she replied, digging into her own bag.

"My job." He checked the mirror again.

"Your job is ferrying visitors to the candy shop?" she teased.

"No, not laughing at those in the back seat," he answered, straight-faced.

The girls both giggled and he could not help but grin.

Lucinda's eyes met his in the mirror. "Is that your job, Joseph? Are you Queen Clarisse's chauffeur?"

He tilted his head to the side, as if considering. "Often."

"But not always?" she persisted.

"No. I have other duties, too." The gates to the palace grounds were ahead and he eased off the gas.

"Well, if you aren't the official chauffeur or the official Genovian Pear Sweets activist, then what do you do?"

"I am in charge of Her Majesty's security," he explained.

The girls oohed in unison, impressed.

"Then why aren't you looking after the queen?" Lucinda asked, then quickly added, "Not that we don't appreciate your attention, of course."

He gave them his most charming smile. "Special guests deserve special treatment."

"Joseph," Cassandra said slowly, "are you married?"

"No, I'm not," he answered, nodding to the guard at the entrance as they approached. The gates slid soundlessly apart.

"_What_? Are the women here _blind_?" she asked incredulously. "What's wrong with them?"

"I'm afraid I cannot say-"

"Cassie, leave the poor man alone," Lucinda admonished. "Joseph, please forgive my sister. She can be a hopeless busybody."

"I am not a busybody and I know just the woman!" Cassie turned to her sister. "Luci, we _must_ get Queen Clarisse to come visit Aunt Maggie so she'll bring Joseph and we can introduce him to-"

"Really, Cassie! You can't!"

"What?" her sister asked innocently.

Luci sighed. "You can't just go around trying to fix up _everyone_ you meet."

"Why not? It worked for you." Cassie gave her sister a satisfied smile. "Anyway, they would be _perfect_ for each other." She leaned forward again. "Joseph, do you like Greek food?"

"Well, I-"

"Cassie! Who do you know that's Greek?"

"She's not Greek, she's Swedish. You know, our headmistress-"

"Oh, you're right!" Luci agreed. The two girls turned as one and stared at him again with huge grins. "They _would_ make a lovely couple."

Joseph had the feeling that what was left of his life had just been planned for him. "Ladies?"

"Yes?"

"We have arrived," he hastily replied, killing the engine.

* * *

The four days of his sisters' visit had been wonderful ones. He'd personally driven them when possible and, while being careful not to overstep the bounds of his position, had found several opportunities to talk with them on general topics, but never anything of a personal nature.

Joseph could not help but find the situation heartbreaking, but the ache was thankfully not as sharp as before. Their lives were happy ones and to suddenly subject them to the reality that their father had an illegitimate son and the social stigma that went with it would not be fair to them. He could only stay silent and enjoy his family from afar. It was for the best.

True to her calling as a matchmaker, Cassandra had left no promising stones unturned. The second day at the palace, while waiting for the cars to be brought around to take them to the dedication, she had asked Shades if he was engaged or otherwise spoken for. To Joseph's surprise, the normally taciturn and somber young man had reddened and stammered unintelligibly. Several feet away, Miss Kutaway had turned the same shade.

Across the carpeted waiting area, he saw Anton smile at Cassandra…and his sister return the smile.

Once Cassandra met Anton, however, her attention to arranging affairs of the heart for others cooled noticeably. Joseph had no objection to their interest in each other; Anton was an exceptional man. He did wonder, however, if the interest would continue with a continent's distance between them.

The airline representative indicated that the young women needed to board and Joseph stepped forward.

"I'd like to give you something to remember…Genovia by," he said, offering each a small gold and green striped box of candies.

The girls laughed and their eyes, a shade lighter than his own, danced with delight over his thoughtfulness.

"Joseph, you are simply a darling!" Cassandra said, giving him a quick hug. Emotions welling up at the gesture, he could say nothing.

"Thank you for making this visit lovely, Joseph," Lucinda added, taking his hand in hers. He nodded then stepped away quickly, not trusting himself to speak as his sisters disappeared into the jetway.

* * *

_I appreciate all your comments and reviews! The next chapter is almost ready, so won't be long in coming._


	15. Plans

With a gracious nod, Clarisse thanked the attendant as the young woman removed her empty teacup. The meetings had run very late and to prevent her returning to Genovia in the wee hours of the morning, she had been obliged to skip the dinner and go directly to the airport.

Thoughtfully, Joseph had ordered a meal be delivered to the royal jet for her and Charlotte. She had asked if his men had eaten and Joseph assured her they had during their breaks, but Clarisse had forgotten to ask about his own dinner. He had been with her the entire evening, so she was sure he had not had the opportunity.

Outside, the blinking light on the wing tip cut through the darkness. She slid the window cover down and took out the documents Charlotte had prepared for the next day's meeting with the Genovian National Health Board then perused them half-heartedly while stifling a yawn. Tomorrow, her day would be just as busy as today, even with Charlotte's rescheduling.

It was a surprise that Charlotte had not moved on to a posting in the diplomatic corps. Clarisse once suggested a position in Switzerland, but she had politely declined saying she enjoyed her job at the palace and was content to stay there as long as Clarisse needed her. Clarisse was pleased to have her.

Looking to the front of the aircraft, Clarisse saw Shades slip into the seat next to Charlotte, and she smiled, happy for them. Love was for the young.

Despite that sentiment, she could not help but be flattered at the attention she had recently received from several men. She was hardly in a position to seriously consider a romantic relationship; her duties kept her entirely to busy for such personal indulgences. Still, the interest made her feel feminine in a way she had never before.

At the moment, however, all she felt was tired. Her staff did their best to make her travels as least tiring as possible, but age and late nights had a way of making themselves felt. It was a four-hour flight and Clarisse did not hesitate in kicking off her shoes and sliding her feet into a soft pair of slippers. A quick trip to the lavatory, then to sleep. The day had been far too long.

As was custom, only Joseph was seated behind her. Two rows back, his head was turned to the side, as if he were gazing out his window. It was only when she was at his seat did she realize he was asleep.

If her day had been long, she could only imagine his. The first up, the last to retire…

A bottle of water and a cold sandwich still wrapped in wax paper lay on the seat next to him. In his lap was a folder- he'd been working when he dozed off. Carefully, Clarisse removed the papers and placed them on the seat behind him. She smiled. Dearest Joseph...

Clarisse hesitated, unsure, then picked up the soft blanket and spread it over him. He looked after her, but who looked after him?

She was nearly certain Joseph was not seeing anyone. Word got out in the palace and if not the maids, then her closer staff often let slip bits of information or gossip. Special events such as anniversaries, births, or weddings were recognized with a personal note of congratulations. Oddly, not once had anything of a personal nature concerning Joseph Coraza crossed her desk.

He had an apartment in the older part of town, at the river. She knew this because she'd overheard Shades giving directions to a new agent. Was it a refuge where he was content to relax? Or, did it seem empty when he was there?

Was Joseph ever lonely?

Her hand lingered on his shoulder, gently caressing the curve of muscle under his black turtleneck with her thumb. He always wore black.

She froze, holding her breath he stirred, the thick muscles under her fingers tensing. _How would she ever explain herself?_ A queen's actions should never be so forward with a man! Joseph mumbled something under his breath then quieted.

From behind her came a soft voice. "Is there anything wrong, Your Majesty?"

"No, no nothing is wrong," she replied over her shoulder, managing to sound normal. "I'm just preparing to rest for awhile. Would you dim the lights, please?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the man answered. His expression barely changing, Hans studiously avoided looking at Joseph slumbering under the blanket tucked around his shoulders or the queen's hand now resting on the seatback.

* * *

"The dinner and dance tomorrow night at the museum fundraiser…how about it?" 

Charlotte cast a scowl sideways at the man leaning across her desk. "Nothing for you to be concerned about- _some_ of us have done their work and all the arrangements are taken care of," she answered primly, coming to her feet. "And you know there were several add-ons to the guest list including the king and queen of Ravenstein and Mr. Neal Hobbes- or should I say 'Baron Hobbes.' I think he's to escort the queen- at least, he suggested it."

Shades followed her to the file cabinet and propped a shoulder against the wall. "I know Her Majesty's extremely efficient, not to mention beautiful aide has everything under control." He ran the tip of a finger along her arm. "I was talking about us."

Charlotte moved away. "What _us_?" she asked, pretending to check the day's schedule.

"Maybe we could sneak in a dance…or two?"

"May I remind you that we are staff and staff do not dance?"

He leaned close, whispering in her ear. "Joseph and Her Majesty did."

She snapped the diary shut. "Well, I am not the queen…and you, sir, are certainly _not_ Joseph Coraza." Just for good measure, she looked him up and down, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

Unable to think of a comeback, Shades crossed his arms and studied Charlotte, hoping he appeared undaunted.

"I'd advise you," she continued, "to go find work before Joseph catches you annoying Her Majesty's employees. I'm sure there's-" She broke off suddenly as Clarisse entered the room.

"There are a few changes that need your attention, Charlotte. I'm having guests for cocktails the night after the ball." The queen handed her a sheaf of papers. "Thank you for handling that little misunderstanding concerning Prince Ivar and Princess Rotina. I'm sure they will be much happier if they stayed at the Golden Pear Hotel- as will we."

Charlotte quickly took note of the changes the queen wanted while Shades stood by solemnly as if he were guarding the royal jewels instead of hitting on a woman.

As the queen turned to leave, Charlotte spoke, unsure how to phrase her question. One did not ask the queen outright if she had a date. "Your Majesty, I'd like to confirm if you will have someone by your side at the ball."

Clarisse glanced at her aide as if Charlotte should know the answer already. Gesturing with a perfectly manicured hand, she replied, "Joseph will be there, of course," then left.

Charlotte and Shades looked at one another. "Of course," they repeated in unison.

* * *

Gloves in hand and the voluminous layers of her satin ball gown rustling with each step, Queen Clarisse did not hurry across the marble-floored atrium, but neither did she tarry. 

"This afternoon was a horrid one- simply full of unexpected problems! I feel, to be perfectly honest, _frazzled_."

Mia quickened her pace. How could Grandmother move so quickly, yet still appear not to rush? Maybe the secret was in one of her princess lessons yet to come.

"Does this hairpiece look odd? I should have told Paola to leave it off!" she whispered to Mia.

Mia grinned. The quick trip to Genovia during her fall break was rushed, but she was enjoying her last visit with her grandmother before pressures of the coming summer coronation began. It was her senior year and passing all too quickly.

They had discussed Mia's becoming queen, but not her grandmother's plans. She was well aware of Joseph's high regard for Clarisse- did grandmother feel the same? Could older people fall in love?

"Oh, my hair is just a mess!" her grandmother continued with an exasperated wave of her hand.

"A complete rat's nest, Grandmother," she answered seriously. Mia could not help but laugh her grandmother's shocked expression.

Clarisse stopped dead still. "Amelia!"

"I'm just teasing- you look absolutely beautiful. I'll prove it to you. Joseph," Mia said, turning to where he stood dressed in formal attire, his attention solely on the queen. "Doesn't Grandmother look pretty?"

Gazing intently at Clarisse, Joseph came to stand in front of her. Clarisse felt her face warm and she lifted her chin a fraction. Joseph took her hand in his and bowed low, touching his lips to her fingers. They were soft and warm and his goatee tickled.

"You are lovely, my queen." He answered slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Joseph held her hand for a moment longer then released it.

It was all Clarisse could do to speak. "Thank you," she murmured.

Around them, everyone waited silently. Joseph smiled and Clarisse completely forgot about her hair - and everything else.

* * *

"After the ball, I think we should find a cozy place to…chat," the breathy voice said in Shades earpiece. 

Three pairs of eyes snapped to where Joseph stood across the hall and Anton's snort of laughter was heard through their small headsets before he could clap a hand over his mike.

Shades shot him a cutting look and the tall man tried to sober. Even so, Shades had to fight his own urge to smile when he saw Anton motion to Hans, rubbing the fingers of his right hand together; it was third woman tonight to make a suggestive comment to their boss; Anton had apparently won the bet.

They heard Joseph politely decline the invitation then excuse himself. Joseph still had women pursuing him…he just wasn't interested in pursuing them.

It had all changed about the time of King Rupert's death, Shades recalled. Aware now of Joseph's feelings for the queen- he was around the two of them constantly- it made sense. Still, the men found it diverting to keep track of how many females cast apprising glances at Joseph and how many got up the nerve to actually approach him.

It wasn't breaking anyone's privacy, really. It was part of their job to be aware of what was going on around them. Being an agent required a great deal of discretion on their part…mostly in ignoring the indiscretions of others.

Across the room, Hans edged closer to the rejected woman and gave her a smile. Shades didn't bother to cover his laugh as the woman ignored Hans and walked away.

* * *

From a corner of the dance floor, Joseph watched as the man holding Clarisse swung her around once then twice in time to the music. Neal Hobbes headed one of Europe's leading businesses as well as topped the list of the continent's wealthiest men.

Through a distant family relation he had inherited a minor title and was not averse to using it to his advantage. Hobbes had been a guest at several other functions the queen had attended, but his behavior was now taking a turn to the more personal. Although nothing in his manner could be called improper, it was evident to Joseph that Hobbes was intent on Clarisse.

Laughing at something Hobbes said, Clarisse took his arm and the couple strolled toward the open doors leading to the balcony beyond. Keeping his distance, Joseph followed.

Clarisse was stunning this evening. Her champagne-colored satin dress graced her curves in smooth lines and the beading accented her waist. It reminded Joseph of the dress she'd worn in San Francisco when he had held her in his arms and they had danced.

Hobbes and the queen disappeared through the door and Hans, stationed in a discrete corner of the balcony, reported them in sight.

Acknowledging the Prime Minister and King Stefan as he passed them, Joseph recalled that evening in San Francisco. He'd not danced with her since- it would have been extremely improper for him to ask. That evening had been a special one when everyone's spirits were high in celebration of Amelia's acceptance. It could not be repeated.

From the doorway's edge, he could see them. Her arm on his, Clarisse was listening intently to Hobbes, an amused expression on her face.

While the realization of his never being acknowledged by his father or his family was no longer a raw ache, the thought of a future without Clarisse was agonizing. During the past years he had pushed the limits of his responsibilities and of convention out of love for Clarisse.

Joseph knew she was fond of him, and during their frequent garden walks at twilight he often believed Clarisse might care for him greatly, even though she had never spoken of such feelings. Due to her sense of duty, he was unsure how deep she would allow her feelings to grow or if Clarisse would even admit to them. And to speak of his own thoughts openly at present…

Joseph sighed. He was staff, an employee of the palace, and such a breach of protocol was unheard of and unpardonable. Any awkwardness between he and Clarisse could seriously jeopardize her trust in her safety and in him.

He was hindered by his position, yet his position was what allowed him near her.

A chill autumn breeze fluttered the sheer curtains framing the double doors. In other circumstances, had Clarisse not been holding a man's arm, he would have suggested she return to the ballroom or allow him to send for her wrap if she desired to stay outside. Instead, he waited patiently and tried not to notice Clarisse had moved even closer to Hobbes.

Mia would be graduating from college next spring and returning to Genovia for her coronation; Clarisse would be stepping down, albeit in name only, shortly thereafter. He knew Clarisse would continue working behind the scenes after Princess Mia was crowned. Still, the full responsibility would be off her shoulders and she could start thinking of her own future. Clarisse was too vibrant a woman to retire alone quietly to a minor castle and only to come out for public holidays and school dedications.

Perhaps next spring would be the best time to declare his heart, when Clarisse would soon be free of her title and he of his duties. In the meantime, he would continue to care for her the only way he could and hope her feelings matched his own. He assumed a position just inside the doorway and waited.

* * *

"I hope Princess Amelia is so fortunate as to have a Head of Security with Coraza's abilities and dedication," King Stefan said, watching Joseph. He sipped his drink thoughtfully. 

"You think he will not stay?" Startled at the comment, Prime Minister Motaz frowned and ignored the glass halfway to his lips.

"Clarisse will no longer be queen," Stefan replied with a shrug.

"Ah, yes!" Motaz smiled and lowered his glass. "Frankly, I am surprised the two of them have not...well, shall we say….that is…"

Stefan lifted a brow in query.

The prime minister shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the medal at his throat swaying slightly. He smoothed his sash with his free hand. "Joseph is inordinately diligent in his duties- far beyond what is called for, and Her Majesty certainly seems to-" He stopped, suddenly aware he was discussing matters of discretion.

Stefan grunted noncommittally, not wishing to embarrass Motaz. Coraza had backed away from the door, fading into the crowd as Clarisse and Neal Hobbes returned from the balcony. He knew what Joseph was doing; his own guards did the same. Coraza was giving Clarisse and Hobbes privacy. Despite the fact that he was not at his usual position by Clarisse's side, Stefan knew that Coraza was well able to look after her.

Since Rupert and Philippe's death, Stefan had worried about Clarisse. Being responsible for your nation and your countrymen was a huge weight on one's shoulders, and he had been concerned Clarisse would struggle under it. She'd done admirably, not that he questioned her ability to rule. His anxiety was over her emotional well-being. Clarisse Gerard Renaldi gave her all for her people and saved little for herself.

Across the floor, Stefan saw Hobbes reluctantly relinquish his position by Clarisse's side when an ambassador and a Danish prince joined them. Hobbes and the prince gave Coraza a scornful glance as he approached Clarisse with a glass of water and received a smile from her in return. Stefan took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

_Propriety_.

In the world of which Clarisse was a part, there were rules one lived by even in this day and age. Although only enforced in earlier times when a male royal married beneath his social status, the mind-set behind the limited ascension and recognition of morganatic marriages could still be found amongst the Continental elite. If she were to have a relationship with Coraza, her employee and a commoner with no influence to speak of in her circle of society, the pressure could be tremendous on Clarisse.

Duty and one's desire was a fine line to negotiate. Still, without balance in one's life, hollowness would develop inside and grow larger and larger until all that remained was a shell of emotions. Clarisse was a queen _and_ a woman. Stefan hoped she remembered that.

* * *

A night after the ball, Josiah Cates stood stiffly at the outer edge of the library awaiting the opportunity to serve. After thirty-five years as the palace butler, the highest position of authority within the palace household, Cates could easily fade into the background. While few observed him, he observed everyone. It was his duty. 

The occasion was a small get-together of Her Majesty's guests from the ball the previous evening, not more than a dozen in attendance. Queen Clarisse allowed only very close friends and a select few guests to stay at the palace. Only King Stefan and his wife were in residence; all other invitees had taken rooms or suites at the Golden Pear Hotel. The queen guarded her privacy.

At his glance, a junior footman removed an empty glass Prime Minister Motaz had placed on the sofa table. With only a slight bobble, the footman steadied it on his tray as he walked to the sideboard. Pleased, Cates gave the footman a nod; the young man was coming along nicely. He glanced over the room for anything else needing his attention or an indication that a guest wished another drink.

King Stefan caught Cates's eye; Queen Helene required another glass of wine. Behind Cates, the senior footman half-filled a crystal goblet and set it on a tray. Cates decided to take it to her himself as it would give him a chance to check the canapés.

As he rounded the sitting area, he could see the expression on Queen Clarisse's face and it was one of distinct unease. Baron Hobbes laughed loudly and several people in the group surrounding them smiled uncertainly. Cates glanced to where Joseph Coraza sat unobtrusively in a corner.

When the queen entertained close friends, the staff did their best to keep intrusions to a minimum. Tonight, his staff consisted of Cates himself and two footmen. For intimate parties of only two or three guests, he alone, with staff waiting in the hallway, was adequate.

Although they worked together on planning, Joseph was required to use a different set of guidelines. Liveried footmen did not present the same imposing figure as one of Mr. Coraza's agents. Lining the walls with wired men dressed in dark suits with guns bulging under their jackets was certain to dampen the spirits of a party.

Once and only once had Joseph placed agents in livery so as to blend in the palace staff. Cates had nearly fainted when he saw Hans hand the Austrian president a glass of champagne by the flute's rim and Anton stack empty highball glasses on his tray. Afterwards, he had insisted that in the future Coraza's agents pose as _anything_ but his staff and that they not come near the Waterford. Upon being presented the bill for the evening's broken crystal, Joseph had agreed.

Tonight, as on most occasions, Joseph was the only agent in the room, even if other royalty were present. But, Cates knew that along with the routine staff, two extra men were stationed just beyond the unlocked French doors and another in the hallway with King Stefan's own personal guards. To lessen his presence, Joseph simply sat, at times with a book open in his lap. Whether or not Joseph was reading, Cates did not know. He was certain that nothing escaped the man's notice.

He admired Colonel Joseph Coraza immensely. Under great opposition, Joseph had turned Security into an efficient and effective service. In addition, he had instigated changes nationally that had been sorely needed. Some looked upon Joseph as a servant at the palace, but Cates most assuredly did not. One day, Cates knew Joseph Coraza would be sitting beside Clarisse Renaldi and not in the corner watching.

Everyone in the palace- probably the country- knew Joseph was in love with her and most thought she was in love with him. But, Queen Clarisse was devoted to her duties. Not that he would ever criticize the queen, not even his own wife Gerta, a palace cook. But, he didn't need to. Gerta expressed the same opinion to the kitchen and housekeeping staff and they all agreed with her.

He had heard talk in town, although not often, that Joseph was a commoner and it would not be proper for him to be husband to a queen since the royal house was an institution to be preserved and not weakened. The Renaldis had served the people of Genovia with selfless devotion and untiring effort and deserved the respect they enjoyed. But, a man had to be judged on his own merits and Cates was firm in his belief that Joseph Coraza was a man to measure up to anyone's standards.

Surveying the room from his position near the drink trolley, he saw Hobbes glance toward Joseph then place his hand on the queen's arm familiarly before taking her hand in his. Cates tensed, wondering how Joseph could sit calmly and watch. Joseph's hand stilled with a page of the old book half-turned. But for that, there was no indication Joseph had noticed. Coolly, Queen Clarisse removed her hand and reached for a bowl of nuts to offer to the Prime Minister who already held a plate of canapés in one hand a glass of water in the other. Joseph turned the page.

After the incident in Brussels, when Joseph had been injured protecting the king, the palace staff had no doubt that Coraza was the man for the job. The icy and undeserved reception he'd received on his arrival at the palace thawed and none could deny him a request. Even that old dragon-lady Miss Parker had changed her tune, bullying everyone's staff, including Cate's, to get work on the security center completed before Joseph's return from recuperative leave.

Neal Hobbes stood and slowly made his way to stand before Cates.

"Another drink," the baron ordered. Cates looked to Joseph who discretely nodded, lifting one finger. Cates splashed a very healthy amount of water in the glass along with a meager shot of liquor, and then pressed the stopper into the bottle with a satisfying click. After this one, the baron would be cut off from the booze.

Hobbes took the glass from the tray and eyed the diluted drink. "Better make it a double- without the water this time."

Glancing away from the page before him, Joseph spoke just loud enough for the three of them to hear. "On my order, sir, Mr. Cates and his staff will not be serving you more alcohol." He turned his attention back to the book.

The baron's mouth tightened and he swallowed half his drink in one gulp, staring at Joseph. "What gives you the right to make that decision?"

"My position of responsibility," Joseph answered mildly. Not for the first time, Joseph wondered why Clarisse had invited Hobbes to the palace.

"Oh, really?" Hobbes snapped.

"Yes," Joseph replied calmly. He could and would drag the offensive man out of the room if need be. There would be, of course, explanations demanded by the queen for such an action, but he had the authority to bodily remove anyone he deemed a threat of _any_ sort to the royal family. Hobbes was a nuisance- that was close enough.

Silent for a moment, the baron thought better of pursuing that line of enmity. He changed tactics. "Reading a book- an interesting way for a servant to look after the queen. With your marked interest in Clarisse, I would have thought you would be more thorough in your duties."

Joseph turned the page slowly, unperturbed. "If you are suggesting I was not aware of what is taking place in the room, such as your joke of questionable taste that few found amusing, or your requesting your fourth drink, then you are mistaken."

The glass hit the table hard and several guests turned to look. Cates quickly grabbed the glass before it toppled off the edge…or the baron picked it up and threw it.

"You are reaching too high, Coraza," he ground out under his breath. "Clarisse would never stoop so low."

Joseph's expression did not change as he skimmed the last paragraph of the chapter.

Hobbes sneered down at him. "Among several of my close friends, there are rumors about you. Should someone whisper the word 'bastard' into the right ears…"

Shocked that someone knew about him, it was a moment before he could answer.

"My father would destroy him," Joseph replied then watched with satisfaction as the color drained from the baron's face. Almost amused, Joseph thought it the only time his father had been useful to him. He stood, handing the book to Hobbes. "You might enjoy this. It is an excellent study of ego and man's fall."

Cates, already ramrod straight, still managed to stand a little taller as Joseph walked unhurriedly past him to a position nearer the queen. The corner of Cate's mouth quirked into a satisfied smile and he did nothing to prevent it. In the corner, the baron looked at the book in his hand, puzzled. It was in Latin.

* * *

_My dear readers: Ah, yes…we are nearing the end of this part of the series. Since we all know what happens to our beloved couple, some of you have asked if I'm going to leave them hanging. I couldn't do that! _

_I have a good portion of part 3 already on paper, just waiting for the plasma screen. It goes beyond the end of the movie, so there's ample opportunity to deal with all those pesky details I'm trying to keep track of. _

_The scene with Cates the butler was what originally started this whole story. I imagined Joseph watching Clarisse from afar with the butler thinking how unfair it was that Joseph could not declare his feelings for the queen, even though he was more than worthy- _**if they only knew!**

_If they only knew what? That led to his being the son of a duke, etc, etc….and the story just kept growing and I kept having more and more fun. _

_As for sticking to canon (thanks for your review, Anonymous!), I will try to as much as possible. Well, considering I'm making up a great deal of the story, I'll stay as true to the movie as I can. In fact, I'm going to grit my teeth, fire up the laptop, pop PD2 in the dvd player, and watch Joseph and Clarisse yet _again_ just so I can take notes. Oh, the things I do for fine literature! How I suffer! The sacrifices! You don't know-_

_Oh, you do?_

_Sorry. I'll get back to writing now. Thanks to all of you for reviewing. Writing this is a great deal of fun and to share it with you makes it even more so!_


	16. A Christmas Wish

Worlds Apart

Chapter 16

A Christmas Wish

"Here ye are, Ma'am. Hot cocoa on a snowy Christmas Eve!" Gerta bent to place the inlaid tray on the low table, and stole a quick look at Her Majesty. If anyone could use a picking up, it was the queen.

"Thank you," Clarisse answered absently. It was a moment before she noticed the large pot and two mugs. "I'm sorry- I only requested a cup for myself."

"Oh, better to have extra than not enough! I hope you enjoy the cocoa, Ma'am," the cook replied quickly as she poured the hot, thick drink. Gerta bobbed a curtsy and hurried to where her husband was at the door, waiting.

"Will there be anything else, Your Majesty?" he asked solemnly, giving his wife a conspiratorial wink.

"No, that will be all for tonight, thank you and good night." Clarisse replied, once again staring at the tree.

"Very good, Your Majesty." The door had barely shut behind them before Gerta rounded on her husband. Before she could speak, he cut her off. "No, we won't interfere any more than that," he insisted. "Joseph will be along shortly on his rounds."

"But, what if he doesn't find her?" she asked worriedly. "The queen might sit there by herself-"

"He will," Cates repeated confidently. He slipped his arm around Gerta. "And, I must say…your plan is an excellent one."

Hesitating just long enough to make sure the hallway was empty, Cates kissed his wife soundly.

* * *

The jeweled lights of the tree and briskly burning fire cast changing shadows as soft music whispered serenely about the figure huddled on the couch. Her heart heavy, Clarisse sighed, her cocoa forgotten as she recalled earlier Christmases with the excited shouts of her son filling the room. Philippe…

She missed him so very much. He should be alive and with her.

It was a comfort, at least, that she had Amelia. And, within a few years, there would be great-grandchildren scampering about excitedly, fighting sleep and begging to be allowed to stay up just a little while longer. The hall would ring with voices and laughter as the tree was trimmed and lit. But, this year, as she had since Rupert and Philippe's death, she asked the staff decorate it.

So many years had gone by, hopes and dreams lost along with her husband and her only child. And here she was…. If it were not for Mia, there would be no one. The lights of the tree became blurred and the colors watery as a tear trickled slowly down her cheek.

* * *

His hand on Mel's shoulder as he leaned closer, Joseph looked at the four pictures displayed on the monitor one last time then stood. It was Christmas Eve and he had two relatively inexperienced agents on tonight, but Shades was pulling night shift and would be watching over them.

He himself would come back in the morning at 0600 for the day so that Shades could be home with his family and, if Joseph was not mistaken, Miss Kutaway. Pearson, Hans, and Anton were splitting the morning and afternoon shifts between them. Joseph didn't mind working Christmas; he nearly always had. Christmas was for families and children and he had neither.

This Christmas would be a quiet one at the palace- no excursions or meetings for Her Majesty, and other than the Prime Minister's traditional visit in the evening, there were no visitors expected. For this reason, he was not concerned about his minimal staff; the palace was still more secure than how he'd found it when he first arrived years ago.

There was no need for extra agents to cover Princess Mia, either. Wanting to spend her last Christmas before her coronation with her mother and stepfather, Mia did not come to Genovia during her break from school. For the first time, Clarisse was alone.

He bid goodnight to the young man and made his way to the family side of the palace. More out of habit than need, Joseph walked the quiet hallways, checking rooms as he went. He wondered again if he should simply stay at the palace rather than go to his apartment.

His days lasting until the late hours, it seemed he rarely saw his apartment during daylight. He liked his small rooms in the old building across from the White River, even if he was seldom there. The area of town was not the flashier area that housed brightly lit hotels, tourist shops, and fashionable restaurants, but it was full of charm and had a mix of cultures he found very comfortable.

Everyone knew him; he patronized the shops in his neighborhood and had only to call and order what he needed. At times, sitting on his small balcony watching the unending rush of water and bustle of everyday life below him, he almost felt at home.

Hearing music, his footsteps slowed and then paused outside the room in which the Renaldi tree was traditionally placed. There was only one person who could be in there. He opened the door.

The room was a large one and had been used as a family room in the past. Across the dimly lit space stood the family's tree and a seating area. On the couch, opposite the fire, Clarisse had turned at his entrance.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Your Majesty." He stood in the doorway, uncertain. "I was making my rounds…"

"You haven't disturbed me, Joseph," she replied, leaning on her elbow. He thought her eyes looked overly bright in the reflected twinkling lights. "I was just sitting here, thinking…"

"Do you require anything?" he asked, stepping into the room. Clarisse sounded tired and not quite like herself.

"No, nothing. Come join me- unless you were on your way home? I've lost track of time- it is late, isn't it?"

Joseph pushed the door closed and walked slowly toward her. "Yes, nearing midnight." He hesitated. The two side chairs had been place against the walls to make room for the tree and antique porcelain manger scene, leaving only the couch.

Sitting up straighter as he approached, Clarisse didn't seem to notice his dilemma. She was wearing a loose rose-colored robe with a collar of white satin showing at her throat and had on no make-up. She was lovely.

"Have a seat and try this cocoa," she said reaching for the insulated pot. "It's very good."

"Thank you," he said, taking the mug she'd offered. It was warm and sweet and he sipped it, relaxing against the leather cushion.

Leaning back, with her arms folded and her cup in hand, Clarisse propped her sock-covered feet on the table and wiggled her toes. Realizing what she'd done, she looked toward Joseph, embarrassed.

"I won't tell Miss Parker," he whispered. She smiled and let her head rest against the cushion, her feet staying comfortably were they were.

"Thank you. She can be quite intimidating, you know."

"Don't I," he agreed under his breath. A holiday song began and he gave the tree a closer look. "As always, the tree is beautiful, Your Majesty."

"Yes, it is. My lady's maids did a good job of it." Clarisse shrugged. "Next year, I'm sure Mia will want us to decorate it together."

Her words sounded more hopeful than certain.

"Family tradition- that's where memories are made," he observed.

"Yes, that is true," she replied, a smile coming to her lips. "When I was a child, my grandmother insisted on the family getting together to celebrate. There were sleigh rides - when it snowed, of course- parties and dinners every weekend. We children would play outside till nearly frozen, then huddle by the fire and drink chocolate to thaw out."

Her face glowing with the sweet memories, she was more exquisite than ever. He turned so that he was facing her, an arm resting on the back of the couch. Never would he tire of watching Clarisse Gerard Renaldi.

It was tempting to slip his arm around her, perhaps draw her close for a kiss. But, he had never made such an overture in all the years he'd known her. It was a line he could not cross. Any apprehension between them would severely jeopardize his ability to provide security and he needed her absolute faith and trust to do his job. Joseph pushed the thought aside.

"On Christmas morning we would all rush downstairs and steal a look through the drawing room door. Our parents warned us not to wake them, but we always managed to make the right amount of noise to avoid punishment yet rouse the adults." She laughed. "To be honest, I think they were already up before we were and were just waiting to see how long we could stand it before they came out of their rooms!"

He chuckled, picturing the sight of Clarisse as a young girl, wide-eyed as the drawing room doors were flung open. She turned sideways to see him, drawing her legs up on the couch, and tucked them under her.

"What were your Christmases like, Joseph?"

His laughter died, but he forced the smile to remain as he placed his cup on the table.

_What should he tell her? The truth? What would she think?_

If they were one day to become closer- as he hoped they would with all his heart-, she would learn a part of it then. Perhaps it was time to start building the bridge between them.

Clarisse was waiting.

"My parents, they were…" he began awkwardly. He would _not_ mention his father. "I was very young when left in the care of my grandmother after my mother died." Joseph looked away, to the fire. "It was difficult for her… there was no money for presents, but I can remember walking in the snow to midnight services and the choir singing hymns. The candles glowing in the church were beautiful- I think that was what impressed me the most."

Her smile faded, her brow wrinkling. Was it pity? Joseph took a deep breathe and continued.

"After she died, I was at a boarding school. The holidays were what you would imagine at a school for boys," he explained simply. Perhaps he should have garnished the truth more.

"Oh, Joseph, I didn't know," Clarisse whispered. "I didn't mean to-"

"You haven't," he said quickly. He did not want her pity. "I made friends at school and spent later holidays at the Helmar home. It was much like your own Christmases- playing in the snow, holiday parties, decorating the tree…"

The memory of that first holiday was still as vivid as the morning it occurred. It had been his first real Christmas, at age fourteen, and he'd had to hide his tears of surprise at finding presents with his name on them under the tree.

"The Helmars- that would be the parents of the young ballerina?"

"Yes, Julia Warren. She is Maria's daughter- Maria is Marcus Helmar's sister," he explained. In past years, he had spent several Christmases in France with them and they were memories he treasured.

Clarisse smiled.

"She's in her mid-twenties, now," he added. "Says she's in love."

"Time has a way of going by too fast," she said wistfully. "Suddenly, the future you thought would never arrive is already yesterday."

"A beautiful queen _and_ a wise philosopher," he observed, grateful the topic was no longer on his childhood. She laughed and leaned her head against the couch, gazing openly at him.

They sat quietly, enjoying the moment of companionship, neither feeling the need to speak. A log fell, sending up a shower of sparks. On the radio, an instrumental began and

Clarisse began to hum along, singing a few words then stopped, apologizing.

"No, please continue." She had a lovely voice.

"It's one of my favorites," she admitted, "although I very rarely hear it now. It brings back memories of lively parties and dance cards filled with the names of young men eager to make a favorable impression." She laughed, leaning back again, her hair ruffled from her fingers.

"Is Your Majesty's card full?" Joseph asked, coming to his feet. "Or is there an opening for a not-so-young man who very much wishes to make a good impression?"

Clarisse giggled. "My card is empty and you _certainly_ should not worry about impressing me, Joseph."

"But I do, Your Majesty," he answered lightly, giving her a smile. They were alone and he did not think she would refuse. Joseph held out his hand.

After a moment's surprise at the fact that he was serious, she took it. Her hand on his shoulder, the other clasped in his, they began to move slowly with the music.

"I can't believe I'm dancing in my pajamas!" Clarisse laughed, laying her head on his shoulder.

"If you were dressed in a ball gown and jewels, you could not be more beautiful to me, my queen," he answered, feeling her relax in his arms.

"Oh, Joseph…you are so good for me." Clarisse moved closer, sighing. "Sometimes…"

"Yes?" He held her a bit closer. She smelled faintly of roses.

"Sometimes I worry about the future…I'm uncertain of what will happen this summer." He felt her tense in his arms.

"You are concerned for Mia?" asked, pulling away slightly to look at her. He was personally overseeing the plans for the transition of security details and wanted the changeover to be as stress-free as possible for Clarisse.

"No, not at all. It's more for myself, really. I've been a royal since I was twenty-one years old, a queen for over thirty," she explained. She met his eyes and he could see the anxiety in them. Her hand tightened on his shoulder. "Joseph, how do I go about simply being …well, an ex-queen?"

"You could turn your attention to other interests," he answered carefully.

"I haven't really thought about it," she said slowly. "I want to see Mia take the throne and come to stand on her own, however beyond that…"

"I've heard you mention you miss having time for your horses," he offered. She felt wonderful in his arms, so soft and warm.

"Yes, I would love to spend time working with my horses." Her voice lifted. "Perhaps I could even show them again."

"And gardening?"

"Definitely," Clarisse agreed, laying her head back on his shoulder. "I'd like to try my hand at designing something less formal than a rose garden."

"I used to think I would want to travel," Joseph said thoughtfully. "But now, I'm not so certain I care to, even if there are places I've not visited."

"The thought of not leaving one's home for the entire day or even the week sounds simply marvelous," she murmured contentedly. They danced a few minutes in silence, not noticing the song had ended and a new one had begun.

"Perhaps the future is nothing to worry over, after all." Clarisse sighed, snuggling closer. "I don't know what I would do without you, Joseph."

He held her as close as he dared, whispering, "I am always yours, my queen."

Across the room, a clock chimed midnight. Their steps slowed and he lifted her hand to his lips, letting it linger, then wished her a Merry Christmas and goodnight.

* * *

Joseph had to admit he was very pleased with what he'd seen at the militia's First Response training camp. When he took over the job seven years ago and sought to make reforms in the country's services, he knew it would be a long time before his plans bore fruit. Reorganizing policies and missions, retraining staff and troops, and weeding out old leaders who would not change had literally taken years. But, now the programs were going strong and he felt his job at an end.

It had been a combination of King Rupert's backing, and later of Queen Clarisse, along with the approval of Parliament that had paved the way for reform. Promised a ceremony worthy of a conquering hero, General Bonetti had retired, opening the way for new leadership. Genovia's small armed forces had been reorganized around public defense and safety.

His invitation to visit the camp was a courtesy from the new Commander of Military Instruction and Joseph appreciated the opportunity to see the results. The young officer had asked dozens of questions and Joseph left with the impression that the major would one day make a very fine senior officer. In truth, he had enjoyed the time discussing military issues.

The visit, however, had not taken nearly as long as he planned, so having an extra hour he decided to take a different route to Pyrus, the capitol where the palace was located. It was a back road, more for local traffic, and the area was an unfamiliar one.

Pastures stippled with spring wildflowers were interspersed with forests of hardwoods. Here and there were old houses resting serenely on working farms. Cows dotted the countryside laced by meandering low, stacked walls. It had a peace about it one did not find when close to the city.

Joseph chose Chopin's Nocturne for Piano No. 8 from the discs in the player and let the music wash over him as he slowed the Mercedes to take a gentle curve. As he rounded the corner, the trees gave way to a stunning view of rolling hills covered with a carpet of thick, green grass bordered by dense woodland. In a copse near a small lake, a portion of a slate roof was visible. Curving to the southeast, a small river glittered its way along the western border. The sight nearly took his breath away.

Just over two kilometers further, he came to a gated entrance. Curious as to who lived in such an idyllic setting, he pulled over to read the name on the small sign attached to the wrought iron; he was familiar with all of Genovia's more affluent citizens since they were frequently at official events, but to his surprise, it listed not the owner's name but information on how to contact a realtor. Apparently, the estate was for sale.

The gate was unlocked. Joseph debated for a moment before continuing slowly down the drive.

Centuries-old trees arched overhead, their limbs filled with the bright green of newly unfurled leaves. He lowered his window and the scent of sweet, damp earth surrounded him; it was a heady feeling unlike any he'd ever experienced.

Fifteen minutes later, Joseph stood on the wide graveled yard, gazing at the front of a rambling two-story stone house with Clarisse's words of Christmas Eve returning.

"Good afternoon, sir!" called a portly, red-faced man from the front door.

"Good afternoon," Joseph replied. "I hope you don't mind my trespassing."

"Not at all. Make yourself at home!" the man laughed, crossing the yard to him.

"I'm Joseph Coraza," Joseph said, offering his hand. The man shook it.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Bertram Hollis- the agent looking after the sale of Stone Manor." Hollis shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded toward the house then the pastures beyond. "It's a fine estate. Are you interested in raising stock? There's over forty-six square kilometers of parkland and pasture."

Joseph laughed. "I'm afraid I know very little in that area."

"Farming?"

He shook his head. "My line of work is more in security issues."

Hollis looked closely at Joseph, his eyes widening a fraction. "You watch over Her Majesty, do you not?"

"Yes," Joseph replied uncomfortably. He changed the subject quickly. "May I look around?"

"Certainly! I'd be pleased to show you the house. Come this way."

Joseph followed Hollis for the next half hour, walking up and down stairs and hallways, peering into rooms and closets. The condition of the house was best described as neglected elegance. Intricate parquet flooring contrasted with chipped plaster and peeling paper in the worst areas, but in the rooms kept up by its former owners the beauty of the old home shone.

The rooms were spacious, bright, and airy. While the northern side of the house was in deep shade, the views from the other windows were lovely. In the far distance, mountains were visible.

They exited through a backdoor that led into what was once a kitchen garden bordered by a tall, vine covered wall. Joseph could smell the sweet scent of herbs. Off to the side was a greenhouse, its glass roof still intact.

"The gardens don't look like much, I'll admit, but with a season's worth of sweat by a knowledgeable hand, they could be spectacular. Here, let me show you the fountain. It was designed by Antonio Sanchez- a beautiful work. The piping's solid, but it needs a new pump."

As they walked through the formal garden, also sorely in need of attention, Hollis explained to him the estate's history, but Joseph's mind was busy imagining what Clarisse would make of the three separate gardens connected by common walls. He knew how to work hard and sweat, but what he knew of garden design came solely from listening to Clarisse during their evening walks in her rose garden. Even so, he judged the overgrown beds and paths to be well laid-out. Bringing them back to their full glory would most assuredly be an interesting challenge for her.

"How is the land suited for a stable, Mr. Hollis?"

"Very well suited, indeed!" Hollis waved a hand and started out the back gate of the larger garden. "Follow me."

There were numerous outbuildings and among them was a generously sized stable with eight stalls. It was clean and appeared to have recently been renovated. Joseph glanced inside the tack room.

"The former owners kept horses, so the stables are in good condition," Hollis explained. "But, if you are interested in breeding or keeping more stock than just for casual riding, you might consider expanding." He swept an arm broadly toward the fields as they walked back out into the sunshine. "Plenty of trails to ride, a good mix of hills and level ground. Beyond that meadow there's a lake with an old cottage and mill- very picturesque."

Gardens and plenty of room for horses. They had returned to the front of the house and Joseph took a deep breath. If too close to the palace and affairs of the country, Joseph knew Clarisse would never truly relax and enjoy her retirement. Stone Manor was under two hours from the city- less by helicopter, if necessary- and was even further removed from its politics. Life would be slower here; they could take time to enjoy themselves and each other.

But, would Clarisse approve?

When she turned the crown over to Princess Mia, Clarisse would have three castles to choose from to be her residence, in addition to properties the Renaldi family held in Genovia and other countries, as well as her private apartments at the palace. Would she consider a home like _this_?

Would she see the house as too small or rustic? Clarisse was accustomed to living in a spacious palace; newcomers frequently became lost in its maze of corridors and floors. His gaze swept across the façade, imagining how it would look when repaired. The main portion of the house consisted of twelve rooms, not including the kitchen and three small staff rooms back of it. In each of the two additions to either side, there were another four rooms.

With work, he was certain the house would be very comfortable and livable. While there were funds available for wherever she planned to live, if Stone Manor was to be their home -their _own_ home- he needed to bear the bulk of the expense himself. He wanted their life to be as normal as possible.

"May I have inspections made before considering further?" he asked, coming to a decision.

"Please do. If you wish, I can have someone send you a report, or you may have your own man look it over," Hollis replied, pulling a card out from his pocket. "Either way, just let me know and I'll see to it."

Joseph's gaze swept over the house and surrounding land one more time. He and Clarisse would be happy here. He knew they would.

* * *

Two weeks later, Joseph made a quick trip to the village near Stone Manor to sign a six-month purchase option on the estate. Now, all he had to do was ask Clarisse to marry him. 


	17. Out of the shadows

Worlds Apart

Chapter 17

_A quick word: Since most of this chapter (and the next) is lifted directly from Princess Diaries 2, I thought I'd better remind everyone, including the Buena Vista lawyers, that I make no claim to owning anything to do with Princess Diaries, although heaven knows I'd love to. I use these divine characters only for my amusement and in no way benefit monetarily from them. (But, your reviews are worth more than gold to me- so drop me a note!) There is no infringement intended on anyone's rights, honest!_

_Enough of that…_

_

* * *

_

Lionel was driving him crazy.

He had tried repeatedly to put the boy off on the other agents, but they managed to weasel out of babysitting nearly every time. If he hadn't been so annoyed, Joseph would have been impressed by their resourcefulness. Yet again, he had the brooding, intense, testosterone-driven teenager trotting behind him, begging for the chance to speak with the queen.

Had it been any other intern, Joseph would have packed him off to the palace gate and let him sweat in the Genovian sun for the summer. Unfortunately, Lionel's uncle was Sebastian Motaz and Clarisse had offered to let Lionel work at the palace without his or Shade's approval and his hands were tied.

A source of heartless amusement to Shades and the other agents, Lionel had taken to wearing black and sticking to Joseph like a burr. He'd already stepped on Joseph's heels twice that morning and he could hear the kid breathing less than meter behind him at that very moment.

"Can I-"

"Wait _here_," Joseph ordered, pointing to a place on the carpet just in case Lionel didn't understand. Against his better judgment, Joseph hoped that if Lionel were permitted to speak to Clarisse for a moment Lionel would leave him alone. Better now than when he became rushed near Mia's coronation.

Glancing back to make sure Lionel was not following, Joseph approached Clarisse's desk.

The only bright spot Joseph could see was that Lionel was not infatuated with Mia and mooning over her like a lovesick puppy. That would have been intolerable and Joseph would be faced with booting the kid out of the palace. As it was, he would just have to put up with Lionel…until he could find a way to get rid of him.

* * *

"Ooh, you just _have_ to read it!" the young maid exclaimed, nearly spilling her tea. Two others nodded vehemently in agreement. "It's ever so spicy!"

The girls dissolved into giggles again.

"What's it called?" Bridget asked. She didn't care to spend much time reading, but if the book were that good, she'd make an exception.

"A Conflagration of Hearts," Brigitte answered, "by Sapphirina Plezzure.

"Sapphirina Plezzure? Do you think that's one of those fake names people write under?" Olivia asked, reaching for the milk jug.

"Could be." Bridgette thought for a moment. "Then again, maybe she's French."

"Well, whoever wrote it is awfully smart. I'm reading it for the second time and I just got it last weekend," Brigette answered.

"Got _what_?" Miss Parker asked, maneuvering around the table in the small room. The half dozen tittering girls suddenly clammed up. Miss Parker pointed to a book on the table. "And what's _that_, may I ask?"

Brigitte spoke up. "It's a book that's just come out, ma'am."

"Is it good?" Miss Parker asked, admiring the powerfully built, handsome man on its cover who was naked from his hipbones up and didn't have much on below, either.

"Oh, it's wonderful!" gushed Millie, the downstairs maid.

The Head Housekeeper nodded. "Even so, girls, you'd best not be reading that on duty."

There was a chorus of assurances they wouldn't and a smiling Miss Parker sailed out, humming happily.

As soon the older woman had left, Brigitte opened the paperback. "Listen to this." The other girls leaned in closer as she began to read.

_"His tanned, sinewy arms snaked themselves tightly around her slender waist, yanking her against his steely, muscled body until there was no more than a hair's breadth of air between them. Lydia struggled, but his arms were as tight as an undersized girdle about her slight form. Her squirming only made him squeeze harder and she noticed that parts of his body were now poking against her._

_'My heart pounds when you are near,' he whispered huskily into her pink, shell-shaped ear. His whiskers scratched her delicate, milky cheek, sending a quiver of excitement all the way down to Lydia's pretty, painted toenails."_

"Oooh! To her toes!" Bridget squealed, and the others joined in.

"Hush! There's more!" Brigitte said, waving away the interruption. She continued dramatically.

_" 'I long for us to flee from the palace to some private glade ,' he persisted, his words rumbling deep in his brawny, furred chest, 'so that we may let loose our imprisoned, raging passions in unrestrained ecstasy.' " _

This time, the squeals brought Gerta Cates to the door, hands on her hips. "Here now, what are you girls up to? Isn't it time you were back to your duties?"

There was a flurry of activity as teacups were emptied, caps were replaced, and ruffled aprons were straightened before the group hurried out the door, laughing as they went. Gerta slid into a chair and poured herself a cup. Then from deep in her apron pocket, she pulled out her own copy of "A Conflagration of Hearts."

* * *

"A bit of quiet country life is what Gerta and I have dreamed of," Cates said, his footsteps matching those of Joseph on the long stretch of hallway leading to the official side of the palace. "My duties here gave me little time to fish, so in the coming years I plan to strike fear into as many trout as I can."

Joseph laughed. With the approaching changes, several staff members were planning to retire. Nearly all, however, had agreed to stay on through the transition to ease the changeover. They turned down a narrow hall.

"And what of you, sir?" Cates asked, then hurriedly added, "That is, if you don't mind my asking."

Joseph shrugged. "I don't mind you asking at all, but I can't tell you much. It's not settled, yet," he answered, not wanting to go into details.

Cates looked at him curiously, but said nothing. At that moment, a worried parlor maid rushed down the hall and breathlessly informing them that Miss Parker was about to come to blows with the florist and would one of them please come right away and rescue the gentleman. He heard Cates groan; Joseph gave Cates a grin and a wave goodbye.

Glad it wasn't his job to referee that affair, Joseph walked on, considering Cate's question. There were plans to make if he and Clarisse were to marry next fall after Mia's ascension to the throne. He would ask her as soon as possible.

* * *

Not one to pace, Joseph remained in his position in front of the door appearing calm to all those waiting impatiently around him. Clarisse should have arrived by now- she was twenty-five minutes overdue.

Giving Charlotte a mike and wire had made it much easier to coordinate movements from the queen's private apartment, an area his men normally did not enter. Still, when busy, the young woman sometimes forgot to turn it on and notify them of delays or that Clarisse was coming downstairs. Joseph hoped this was one such time and there wasn't a problem. Two more minutes and he would go check.

As if aware of his thoughts, Charlotte hurried around the corner declaring the queen was on her way and for everyone to look alive. He chuckled at Shade's sudden jump to attention.

Tonight, Joseph had ordered his men to wear suits although he was wearing a tux. With dozens of men attending to pay court to Mia, he wanted his agents to stand out. He, on the other hand, would be acting as the queen's personal guard and needed to blend in when standing near her. At least tonight, the male guests would be focusing their attention on Mia and not Clarisse. Joseph had been pleased to hear that Baron Hobbes was not invited and his forward behavior last fall had gotten him permanently marked off the royal guest list.

Clarisse floated around the corner, a vision of beauty. Ignoring everyone else, her eyes sought his and she twirled, arms open, silently asking for his approval. She came to him, hand outstretched.

"Beautiful," he said, before bending to kiss her gloved hand. In a mock serious voice he added, "But, you are late, Your Majesty."

Her eyes twinkled. "A queen is never late," she replied, teasing him in return. "Everyone else is simply early."

"Of course," he answered, just barely keeping the laughter from his voice.

Clarisse gazed at him for a moment then laid her hand on his cheek, no words necessary.

Joseph was certain of her love.

* * *

"How can they expect me to fall in love in thirty days? It's…it's a _trick_ to get me to have an arranged marriage!" the princess exclaimed, her voice rising in panic. "It's my _only_ choice! What kind of person agrees to an _arranged_ marriage?"

Mia's eyes widened, immediately realizing what she had said and wishing she could take it back. "_You_ agreed… I didn't mean…"

Clarisse looked to the full-length portrait of her and Rupert. "Yes, I did, and it turned out quite splendidly. He was my best friend and we grew very fond of each other."

Unconvinced, Mia continued unhappily. "I'm sure, Grandma, but _I_ dream of love, not _fondness_."

She clasped her hands in front of her and gave Mia an understanding smile. "You don't have to do this, Mia. You don't _have_ to become queen."

There had been no question in Clarisse's mind about whether to agree to marry Rupert Renaldi. While she had known and liked Rupert for years, the arrangements had been made by their parents. Clarisse was aware, however, that the thought might be disconcerting to a young woman brought up differently than she. But, if Mia were to have input into the selection of her husband, it might help matters. She would see that Mia did.

"…I _will_ be up there with my father. I'm sure I want to have the chance to make a difference for my people," Mia was saying. Clarisse looked at her proudly.

"Spoken like a true queen," Clarisse replied. Duty and royal responsibility _were_ more important than personal desires…even if they did involve love. They had to be.

* * *

_"-Also in the news this morning: Accused by five European countries of illegal business practices and environmental protection violations, Morely Addington, the Duke of Thornfield, has denied all allegations of wrongdoing and indicated he would not cooperate in an inquiry. So far, no charges have been brought against the duke and observers say that actually proving his guilt might be difficult. The Cerneland Attorney General's only comment was that the government is looking at its options. And that's our regional European update." _The tanned announcer smiled broadly into the camera and held the pose a full five seconds before continuing._ "Elsie, what's cooking this morning?"_

_"Well, Mark, it's hot in the kitchen for the stars of the reality show "Wrestling for Euros:Oil, Mud, or Jello!"_

"Charlotte, I need to speak with King Gustav," Clarisse said, looking away from the TV, her arms still folded across her chest. "Morely Addington is going to force this into the courts and if that is what he wants, we will give him a fight."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll call him first thing." Charlotte went to turn off the television set, but stopped as Elsie held up a paperback book.

_"The steamy romance 'Conflagration of the Heart' has set the book market on fire! Rumor has it that Sapphirina Plezzure is the pseudonym of a first time author from here in Europe!" _Elsie fanned the pages of the book, pretending to read. _"Oh! This sizzles!"_

"What in the world is she going on about, Charlotte?"

"A book, Your Majesty."

"A cookbook?" Clarisse asked, opening her diary to check the day's appointments.

Charlotte blushed. "No, ma'am. A romance novel."

The blonde on TV picked up a frying pan with two eggs in it and a small bottle. _"It seems that many like a little hot sauce with their eggs!"_

"At least she's not spreading stories about Amelia." Clarisse shook her head and put on her glasses, ready for work.

"Yes, ma'am. I think the princess' plan for the orphanage will be of great interest." Charlotte turned the TV off and joined the queen at her desk.

"Let's hope so," Clarisse replied fervently.

* * *

Stiff and silent as a statue, Shades watched as Princess Mia and the Duke of Kenilworth frolicked by the sea with an entourage of family and staff a short distance away milling about awkwardly on the sand. For the umpteenth time he pondered how he could lose Lionel and not get in trouble for it.

Seeing the boy plague Joseph for the past two weeks, he had been determined to avoid getting stuck taking care of the intern. But, Joseph had outsmarted him. Never again would he underestimate the sneakiness of his boss.

Without fail, Joseph _always_ traveled with Queen Clarisse, and with Lionel assigned to the trip, Shades had been certain he would be free of the frosted-hair pain in the neck for the week. Then, at the very last minute he'd found himself on the royal jet, replacing Joseph. To make it worse, Joseph's final words before the hatch slammed shut had made him personally responsible for the kid.

"Should we recon the bay?" Lionel whispered, eyes darting about suspiciously. "Could be kidnappers sitting off-shore!"

Shades grit his teeth.

"Might be an underwater team just beyond the breakers."

Shades vowed vengeance on Joseph…not that he thought he could actually get the better of his boss, but it made him feel better to think about it.

"I saw this movie once-"

Searching for a way to dispose of Lionel's body unseen, Shades turned in a slow circle. Anything….a crevice…a sinkhole….but there was nothing. He gave up on the idea of murdering the boy- for the moment, at least.

"Can I do that?" Lionel asked in awe.

"No."

Despite knowing that payback from Joseph Coraza was going to be hell, he and the other agents had pulled together as one to thwart Joseph's attempts to shift the walking nuisance onto them. Their underhanded operations to avoid duty with Lionel had bordered on brilliant at times and the brotherhood had been bound by an unbreakable bond of dread.

Now, however, it was every man for himself.

In the distance, he saw Hans walking near the limo. The corner of Shade's mouth turned up in satisfaction. He had a plan.

* * *

A walk in garden was just what Clarisse needed. Not surprisingly, it had been Joseph who suggested it. He always seemed to know when she needed to get away from her desk for a few moments.

Several years before, during a frosty evening stroll to clear her head, she had realized that the walk leading to the gazebo was always clear, even of snow and ice. Always. Curious, she'd found out why from her head gardener: Joseph had ordered it.

He was such a dear friend…and more. Clarisse sighed.

Bounding past them, Maurice barked, bringing her attention back to the present.

The engagement of Andrew and Mia had been formally announced earlier that morning and there were nonstop requests all day for interviews and photo sessions. She'd been obliged to take congratulatory calls from numerous governments and friends for most of the afternoon, and there were more to return this evening.

With plans being finalized for the wedding in less than four week's time and Mia's coronation shortly thereafter, her schedule would be even more strenuous than before. There were briefings and interviews to hold, scheduled travel and appearances to change, and official notifications to prepare for foreign governments. Too, several of the staff had indicated they would be leaving during the fall. She would have to make time to discuss staffing with Mia- what to look for in those she surrounded herself. It was very important to have the right people.

One matter, however, was not troubling her; Joseph, of course, would be staying with Amelia as her Head of Security and remain at the palace. This meant she would continue to see him, although not daily as she had for so many years. Clarisse felt disappointment at the thought.

And how would it be when, in order not to overshadow her granddaughter, she moved away to another castle… and not see him for weeks?

But, the present gave her enough difficulties to deal with.

"She was found in a _closet_?" she repeated, keeping her voice low. By now, she had hoped Mia could avoid getting herself in difficult situations. That, unfortunately, had not proven to be. Even worse, it had involved Lord Devereaux.

"With _him_- yes."

This was potentially more embarrassing than the beach party fiasco; Mia was now an engaged woman. Clarisse wrung her hands worriedly as they made their way down the walk, past gardeners trimming the hedges in preparation for the coming garden party. She didn't notice as a grinning Miguel quietly waved his workers away, leaving them alone.

"Do you think she has the makings of a queen?" She finally asked, giving voice to her doubt and fear. Other than Joseph Coraza, there was not another soul on earth she would have asked that question.

"She's young, but I've always believed in her," he replied honestly.

"I just…" Clarisse waved a hand in agitation. "The invitations have all been sent out!"

What _would_ they do if Mia called the wedding off and Lord Devereaux became king? Viscount Mabrey was friends with that odious Duke of Thornfield- without a doubt he would have Addington involved in Genovian politics. Clarisse shuddered.

"Yes, I know," Joseph replied.

"She and Andrew make a _fine_ pair-" she continued, trying to convince herself there was nothing to worry about. They simply _had_ to marry!

"Yes. I-"

"She's _very_ set on it." Amelia knew her duty, but she needed to be more circumspect in her behavior. The press would have a field day if they found out!

"Yes, yes," Joseph answered impatiently. "Clarisse, my dear, forget the wedding for a moment."

He led her up the handful of steps into the gazebo and faced her, clearing his throat. "In less than a month, you will no longer be queen."

Clarisse nodded in agreement, her hands clasped in front of her, between them. Obviously, Joseph had something serious on his mind and she turned her full attention to him. She had learned long ago that matters of security were not to be taken lightly.

"And I will no longer be your head of security."

"Yes," Clarisse concurred, thankful again he would be working for Mia. She wondered what he was leading to. In his stead as head of security, Joseph would appoint one of his agents to see to her arrangements. Surely, by now he knew she trusted him implicitly and would approve any decisions he made.

"I think it's time we bring our friendship out of the shadows," he continued carefully.

Clarisse's mouth opened in surprise. She shook her head slightly. "Oh, Joseph, I…"

"Yes," Joseph broke in, taking her hand in his with a smile. "Yes, my dear, I would kneel if not for my knee replacement."

Laughing nervously, she sat at his gesture and he joined her on the bench, waiting. Clarisse tried to organize her thoughts. She thoroughly enjoyed their moments together and the thought of becoming closer to him was appealing, but…

"Oh, Joseph, there's a wedding to be planned. Mia needs to win over the people of Genovia… all in less than thirty days!"

Joseph nodded.

She knew he was aware of her concerns for her granddaughter and Genovia and that they were her priority and always would be- he understood.

"My duties are clear," she continued. "Mia needs me and there are so many improvements yet to make for my people and so little time."

His smile dimmed as he watched her, and after a moment he spoke." Perhaps it's time to consider the duty you have to yourself."

_"Oh!"_ The full impact of what Joseph was asking hit her. She'd not expected this at all! Clarisse pulled her hand away, not knowing what to say. He was asking her to…

How could she _possibly_ give him an answer at that very moment- _what would she say_? There were so many things to consider! Mia…the country...her responsibilities… She tried to speak, but no words would come.

"Clarisse, my darling, please think about it," Joseph said solemnly, reading the hesitation in her heart. "Please?"

She touched his cheek fondly for a moment then pulled her hand away. "I will."


	18. Worlds Apart

Worlds Apart

* * *

"Princess? Excuse me, but the queen has arrived," he said quietly, careful to keep his gaze from her face so as not to embarrass her further. Finding her in the tack room after her horse bolted had relieved his fears. She was unhurt, at least physically; they could deal with the other pain later. 

Mia nodded and brushed past Nicholas, who moved to follow. Joseph held out a hand, stopping him. "Nicholas, am I going to be disappointed in you?"

He had thought Nicholas to be but a pawn in his uncle's scheme and that the young man might actually care for Mia. Now, Joseph had to reconsider. Even if Viscount Mabrey did not, surely Nicholas had more sense than to risk injuring the princess. Had she fallen…

Joseph was angry, but not just with Mabrey. It was the whole state of affairs that had Mia trying her best to fit in and please others. She should not have to win over her _own_ people, nor should she have to marry to have what was rightfully hers.

He watched the young man carefully. It seemed Nicholas was going to answer, but his uncle's arrival cut off any response.

"Unfortunate incident, that," Mabrey said to Joseph, his eyes still dancing with amusement. Unperturbed, he looked to his nephew. "I'm leaving- you going to come see me off?"

"I'd like to speak with your uncle alone, Nicholas," Joseph said, laying a hand on the young man's arm briefly, a silent reminder of his earlier question. Nicholas nodded then left, head down.

"Viscount," Joseph began, with a fixed smile, keeping his voice level and without any trace of anger. "You may not be aware of what my job entails as the Royal Head of Security. My job is to protect the crown, to see no harm comes to the crown, to step in when someone toys with the crown's emotions, you see."

"I think the whole country understands how you cater for the crown's _emotions_," Mabrey replied with a mocking laugh, almost daring Joseph to deny it. "Do you actually think Clarisse- a _queen_- would become involved with the hired help?"

His gaze hardening, Joseph's smile faded and he was silent for a long, tense moment.

"If you hurt my girl, you will answer directly to me." His voice was low and hard, and his eyes narrowed. "And whatever crimes I commit against you, remember- I have diplomatic immunity in forty-six countries…including Puerto Rico."

The viscount started then quickly summoned his courage. "Sir! You will find the word _'fear'_ is not in my vocabulary!" he huffed, standing as tall as possible.

"Perhaps…but it's in your eyes." Joseph stared at Mabrey then slapped the rubber snake on Mabrey's shoulder. "You forgot something."

His expression becoming one of worry, Mabrey watched as Joseph walked unhurriedly from the room.

* * *

Her long, floral Hermes scarf fluttering over her shoulder, Clarisse entered Charlotte's office, a folder of financial statements in hand. 

"Charlotte, will you please call-" Seeing the empty desk she went to it; a note would do just as well. Reaching for the notepad, a book half concealed by papers caught her eye; actually, it was the brazen cover that held her attention.

_Did men really look like that?_

The memory of Joseph in a sweat-soaked undershirt came to mind. Not quite as much muscle bulging in so many places, but he was close.

Giving the doorway a quick look to make sure no one was coming, Clarisse nudged the papers aside a few inches to uncover the rest of the muscular male who was clad only in a sheet…and barely that!

_A Conflagration of Hearts…._

It was that book she'd heard about. Clarisse laid the folder on the desk and gingerly picked up the paperback. As a girl, her schooling required that she read the classics and as an adult, she tended to read mysteries when she had the time. But _this_! Curious, she flipped it open near the end.

"Oh, my!" Clarisse reached for the reading glasses dangling at her neck so that she could see the words without squinting.

Her mouth opened further in surprise as she skimmed the page and hastily turned to the next. The author must certainly have an incredible imagination- the hero was doing things Clarisse had even thought of! She read the paragraph again, trying to picture the position described.

Was _that_ possible?

She turned back toward the beginning of the book, and read more.

_Lydia peered at Jose Cordoba through her long, thick, smoky-black lashes as the tip of her pink tongue showed between perfect teeth, taunting him. A groan rumbled deep in his manly torso and he swooped down like a hawk hunting its prey, fastening onto her luscious, ripe, cherry-flavored lips as though he were starving and she was an all-you-can-eat buffet._

_"In my chest, my heart thunders in agony when you are away," Jose said, bathing her face with his kisses. "I am a simple man, but my devotion to you is interminable."_

_A teensy frown flittered across Lydia's fair features. "Interminable? Is that good?" she whispered, wishing she had paid more attention to her tutor._

_"Yes…and so is this!"_

_Lydia's world came to a screeching halt as his strong hand executed a dance of desire across her ribcage then waltzed across the lacy bosom of her dress before his fingers performed a tango on a particularly sensitive spot, leaving her breathless._

_"Mi amor, usted me ama?" he breathed, his breath warm on her long, slender neck. "Do you?"_

_"Oui, mi amor!"_

_His hands gentled as he sat on the hard cement bench and pulled her onto his lap, his body jabbing her at an odd angle again. Lydia squirmed, but it did not help in the least so she wiggled a different way, and then gave up._

_"Me ardo," he gasped. "I burn and only you can quench the heat of my inflamed-"_

"Your Majesty?"

Clarisse dropped the book as if it were hot coals. "Oh! ah…yes, Charlotte. I was merely leaving you a note." She waved the sticky-backed paper as proof, sliding the folder and loose papers across the book.

"I need you to call about the quenching- I mean quarterly report." She added, breezing out of the room in what some would call haste. "Thank you, Charlotte. I'll let you get back to your work."

Literature had _certainly_ changed!

* * *

"Do I want to know?" Queen Clarisse asked, looking everywhere but at her drenched granddaughter. 

_What had the child done now?_

Under her new satin pumps, the puddle was growing larger. Lionel, posted at the little used utility entrance, had rushed over and was peeling off his coat, no doubt for her to stand on. Clarisse waved him back.

"No, I don't think so," Mia whispered. In full agreement, Clarisse gave an abrupt nod, dismissing her. This was something better discussed in private, and not for curious guests to overhear.

Andrew laughed uncomfortably as his fiancé hurried away to where her lady's maids were waiting with a towel. "She's…she's going to be a handful, isn't she?"

Clarisse smiled, trying to put a good twist on the situation. "You'll never be bored, Andrew."

His fears confirmed, Andrew gave her a weak smile and trotted off after Mia. Clarisse's smile turned into one of concern.

Clarisse could not recall _any_ situation from her very proper past that was remotely similar to the ones Mia had gotten into lately. Her granddaughter seemed to have far more energy and imagination than she had as a young woman. Perhaps it was because Mia had been raised unaware of the responsibilities facing her, while Clarisse herself had known since early girlhood and was careful not to do anything to excess.

Despite the companionship between her and Rupert, there _had_ been moments of boredom and she had sought escape by taking on more causes, and more work. With all her heart, Clarisse hoped Mia never lost that spark of individuality and spontaneity. Wearing a crown, one could lose oneself.

Joseph's proposal came to mind. Suddenly, Clarisse was weary and very much needed time alone to think.

* * *

"When are you going to start acting responsibly?" Clarisse demanded. "Being caught in the storage closet with a man who is _not_ your betrothed, and now being found soaking wet in the garden pool with the same man who is _not_ your betrothed is _not_ acting responsibly!" 

She could only imagine the thoughts of the two security guards who'd come running at Mia's screams. It was times like this when you had to put your full trust in your staff to be discrete.

"You must _think_, Amelia, before you act. If you had considered your actions first, you would not have-"

"I didn't plan to!" Mia retorted from the corner of the couch. "Sometimes, you just _lose_ it."

"You cannot just _lose_ it!" Clarisse said, spreading her arms wide, waving them about. "We cannot _afford_ to _lose_ it- we are supposed to _find_ it."

Mia rolled her eyes. "I'm sure _you_ never lose it!" she muttered under her breath, pulling her knees up under her chin. "You always _think_ things to death."

"People look up to us- we are held to higher standards of behavior," Clarisse continued, unaware of her granddaughter's comment. "Can you _try_ to grasp that concept?" Clarisse poured a cup of tea, hoping it would calm her. She was beginning to get a headache.

"I understand that. It's just the _doing_ that is elusive," Mia answered haughtily, in an attempt to salvage some dignity.

Clarisse laughed shortly. "I'd say so!" She sat down on the chaise, tired, her heart going out to Mia. The young woman was in a difficult position and faced with choices few people were asked to make. Her anger faded.

"Try and get some sleep," she said gently as her granddaughter strode crossly out of the room. The hall echoed with Mia's grumblings.

Clarisse understood only too well how important public opinion and perception were. Without the respect of her subjects, a queen could not rule effectively. As a queen, one had to be _completely_ above reproach, above gossip or talk. Mia might be young, but it was vital she understand.

Cup in hand, she walked slowly across the room. "Well, Maurice, it's just you and I, or are you upset with me, too?"

The dog gave a bark and ran off, nails clicking on the polished floor. Mia and now Maurice…

Exhausted mentally as well as physically, Clarisse sat on her couch, hugging a pillow to her chest.

And what of dear Joseph? She was going to have to give him an answer soon.

* * *

"Hello! Hope I haven't called at a bad time. How are things in Genovia today?" Chesterson asked cheerfully. 

"The past two hours have been reasonably calm," Joseph answered, shifting his cell phone to his other hand. He opened the glass door to his balcony and sank into a cushioned seat and propped his feet up on a small wrought iron table. "But there's still twenty-five minutes left until midnight."

Chesterson burst out laughing. "I've heard about some of the happenings over there. Is the wedding still on?"

Joseph let his breath out in a rush. "As far as I know, it is. A contender to the throne has been involved in creating difficult situations."

"Is the claim legit?" Chesterson asked. "I thought it was the hotel tycoon who was next in line."

"Seems he is in fact third for that exalted position," Joseph replied dryly, "so there is no lack of people ready to assume the crown, should Princess Mia not prove able."

"A shame your princess had to become engaged like that, but Andrew Jacoby gets high marks from everyone I've spoken to. Should do quite well, actually."

"I hope so. She deserves no less."

Chesterson grunted in agreement. "Listen, the main reason I called was to run something by you- a business proposition. I have an idea."

For the next three-quarters of an hour, Joseph listened with increasing interest in his friend's plans.

* * *

"How do you feel today, my dear?" Joseph asked the next morning, trying to keep his voice light as Mia climbed into the carriage. He wore dark glasses so that he might observe those around him covertly; she was wearing dark glasses to hide behind and that was not good. 

"Not that great," Mia replied as he took his position behind the seat. Mia possessed a great deal courage, he thought. Few young women of her age could deal with what she'd had to with such poise and grace. She was definitely Clarisse Renaldi's granddaughter.

"Would you feel better if you called me 'Joey'?" he asked softly, leaning closer. Mia smiled up at him, grateful for his understanding.

"No, Joe."

"Good," he said, very much relieved.

Barely looking at him, Clarisse mounted the carriage step and he reached forward to help her, but she ignored his hand and took her seat unassisted. She looked pale and Joseph worried that the stress she was under was too much.

Had there been any possible way, he would have put Mabrey away for what he had done and rid Clarisse of at least one anxiety. While he could have filed charges for Mabrey's involvement in the rubber snake incident, it would have kept the embarrassing occurrence on the front pages for weeks and done far more damage than simply letting the episode die quietly. Once Mia was married and away on her honeymoon, he would take care of it.

The parade started and he scanned the crowd routinely, looking for movements, facial expressions, and other indications that someone was preparing to harm the queen or princess. In general, open spaces and crowds were their most difficult situations to work in. But, there were extra police in force and he had every available agent on duty, some casually dressed and stationed in the crowd. In the carriage, the two women smiled at the cheering people, Mia waving as she had been taught by her grandmother.

It was something of a surprise to him when Clarisse did not accept his proposal that day in the gazebo. Should he have made his feelings clearer during the past months or had she simply been too distracted by Mia's mishaps?

Understanding the pressure Clarisse was under, he'd given her nearly the whole month to consider his proposal, and while he did not want to rush her, he would have to ask for her speak with her about it soon. There were plans to draw up for renovations on Stone Manor and the estate, a wedding and honeymoon to fit into her schedule, and their future to discuss.

With his attention focused on coordinating security measures for the two upcoming ceremonies, he'd had few opportunities to speak Clarisse alone. He would have to make time to draw her away from her work- the wedding was less than a week away. More importantly, he knew their commitment to each other would give Clarisse peace of mind.

They'd barely gone three blocks when the princess suddenly ordered the carriage to stop. Joseph quickly notified his men and they pulled in closer to shield the queen. With his hand on his weapon, Joseph's gaze quickly swept the area.

Nothing.

Ignoring every instruction he had given to her on how her movements in public had to be coordinated with him, Mia jumped out of the carriage and headed directly toward the crowd. Joseph had to grit his teeth to keep from swearing as he hurried after her.

"Princess! What's wrong?" he asked, catching up to Mia.

"Nothing's _wrong_, Joe." She placed a hand on his chest and smiled. "Really, there isn't."

He looked around the area. There was nothing out of the ordinary on the street- crowds of people watching, children waving flags. Her actions did not make sense.

Following her, he motioned for Pearson to move closer to Mia and Joseph gave orders via his mike for Anton and Mel to leave the crowd to join them. Then, understanding dawning, he watched as she greeted a group of children in front of the orphanage.

For years, he had anonymously donated funds to help in the children's care. Recalling the painful aloneness he'd experienced, his throat tightened as she spoke with the children, inviting them to join her…then nodded his approval. Joseph returned to the carriage, careful his features gave no hint as to his thoughts.

Confused and not entirely certain that Mia's actions were not going to cause yet another crisis in less than twenty-four hours, Clarisse looked to Joseph for assurance as the parade resumed with Mia leading the jubilant children. He smiled, laying his hand on her arm, and gave a quick glance over his shoulder at the princess.

Mia was going make a fine queen.

* * *

Just a little less than three and a half days before the ceremony- everything was in order, everything planned…everything except the music and place settings. Clarisse glanced over the table of glittering crystal and china, debating which pattern would go best with the centerpieces. She was partial to a simple silvery white pattern, but wanted to see them all before deciding. 

Mia had asked her to choose both, and why her staff waited until the last minute to remind her, Clarisse did not know. Thankfully, the delay would not cause a dilemma. The palace had enough settings of any pattern she chose and the orchestra was a very capable one.

It was already late evening and once these two items were taken care of, her day would finally be over. Clarisse had promised herself a relaxing hot bubble bath tonight because the coming days were going to be extremely busy with the reception tomorrow evening and the celebratory ball the next. Thankfully, engagements on the day before the wedding were limited to close friends and family.

But, tonight she was putting away all of her problems and concerns, and instead, she was going to rest her body and her mind. A cool breeze stirred the sheer curtains framing the door leading to the garden, carrying the fragrance of early blossoms. She pressed the button on the portable stereo.

Lovely music filled the hall and Clarisse closed her eyes, letting her body slowly move from side to side in time. She and Joseph had danced, once in public, twice in private and there would be shared dances again. There was absolutely no reason for their relationship to change, even if she could not-

Out of the blue, Joseph swept her up in his arms, twirling her gently, and they laughed together at her gasp of surprise. It felt good to laugh.

Clarisse laid her head on his shoulder and felt his cheek against hers, a faint scent of spice warming her senses. She felt so safe in his arms, so at ease. If only the moment could last forever…

"Have you been thinking about us?" he asked softly.

She stiffened slightly and lifted her head. Summoning all the lines of reasoning she had rehearsed during the past week, she tried to smile. "Yes, I have."

Clarisse knew he could see the answer in her eyes and she longed to take away the hurt she saw reflected in his. She never meant to hurt him, but there was nothing she could do- there was only one answer she could give. He would understand.

"I see," Joseph replied evenly, his face devoid of any emotion. He was silent for a moment then stepped back, letting go her hand. "If you will excuse me."

He wasn't supposed to walk away!

_You will lose him!_

Joseph was nearly to the door.

Clarisse ran after him.

"_No!_ Joseph – you _had_ to know what I was going to say!" she cried, clutching his arm desperately, pulling him toward her. "Mia needs me now- it's the monarchy- the country's _future_! As _queen_ it's my responsibility!" she pleaded. "You _know_ how it is!"

_Please let him understand!_

"You were never _just_ my queen, Clarisse," Joseph answered, trying hard to keep his voice level. "You were the _someone_ I wanted to spend the rest of my _life_ with."

"But," he quickly continued, before she could protest, "if you prefer I see you first and foremost as my queen…then I shall oblige you."

_This was all wrong- all wrong!_

Somehow, she would make him understand. She touched his cheek gently. "No, Joseph, it doesn't have to be-"

"Your Majesty." The words were said with finality.

He bowed, moving away, his eyes still locked with hers until the moment he turned his back and walked out the open doors, into the darkness.

_Go after him!_

Staring at the empty doorway, Clarisse took a ragged breath. It hurt so much more than she had expected- so _very_ much more. She laid a steadying hand on the table as her eyes closed. The heaviness in her heart was unbearable.

It had to be this way- it _had_ to be.

"Your Majesty, may I have Princess Mia come join you now?" Charlotte asked hesitantly from the landing where she had overheard.

"Not_ now, _Charlotte," Clarisse answered, swallowing hard.

_Oh, please not now!_

"Did you wish dinner to be served in-"

"_No_!" Clarisse fairly yelled, bringing her hands to her face, "I just want one second for _myself_!"

_Just one moment to be me- a moment free of answering to others and to duty! Isn't a queen allowed at least that?_

A queen.

She was a queen.

"Charlotte, I'm sorry," Clarisse continued quickly, recovering her control. A queen was always in control, never gave in to emotions. Her voice softened with regret. "I'll…get something from the kitchen later."

The young woman nodded sympathetically. "I understand, Your Majesty."

Gazing at the door to the garden, Clarisse felt as if she had lost a precious gift. She laid a hand on her chest, her heart full of anguish.

_No one could possibly understand._

No one.

* * *

_This ends Worlds Apart, andI hope you have enjoyed the story as much as I have._

_I have to thank Revsue for her help as a beta and note that she is to blame for the Conflagration of Hearts idea of the hawk and the starving man. As for the rest of that awful romance, I hang my head in abject shame and guilt… even though I must admit it was great fun to write. The sad thing is that I've read stuff like that (and worse!) in books I paid good money for. _

_I'd like to point out that the exchange with Charlotte, after Clarisse refuses Joseph, is from the deleted scenes found on the DVD. I think it is a touching moment excellently performed by Julie Andrews, and gives us a deeper understanding of just how hard it was for Clarisse to let Joseph go. I hope that came through in my story._

_Your feedback makes me want to write even more, and I very much appreciate your comments. Feel free to make suggestions as to how I can improve my writing, please._

_As I mentioned before, this story will continue and it won't be long before Dreams Fulfilled begins._

_Again, thank you, my dears._


End file.
